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diff --git a/325-h/325-h.htm b/325-h/325-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea8cf72 --- /dev/null +++ b/325-h/325-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8581 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Phantastes, by George MacDonald</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Phantastes, by George MacDonald</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Phantastes<br /> +A Faerie Romance for Men and Women</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George MacDonald</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September, 1995 [eBook #325]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 6, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Mike Lough and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHANTASTES ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>Phantastes</h1> + +<h3>A Faerie Romance for Men and Women</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by George MacDonald</h2> + +<h5>A new Edition, with thirty-three new Illustrations by Arthur Hughes;<br/> +edited by Greville MacDonald (Illustrations not available)</h5> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="poem"> +“In good sooth, my masters, this is no door.<br/> +<br/> +Yet is it a little window, that looketh upon a great world.”<br/> +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap00"><b>PHANTASTES A FAERIE ROMANCE</b></a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +For offering this new edition of my father’s Phantastes, my reasons are +three. The first is to rescue the work from an edition illustrated without the +author’s sanction, and so unsuitably that all lovers of the book must +have experienced some real grief in turning its pages. With the copyright I +secured also the whole of that edition and turned it into pulp. +</p> + +<p> +My second reason is to pay a small tribute to my father by way of personal +gratitude for this, his first prose work, which was published nearly fifty +years ago. Though unknown to many lovers of his greater writings, none of these +has exceeded it in imaginative insight and power of expression. To me it rings +with the dominant chord of his life’s purpose and work. +</p> + +<p> +My third reason is that wider knowledge and love of the book should be made +possible. To this end I have been most happy in the help of my father’s +old friend, who has illustrated the book. I know of no other living artist who +is capable of portraying the spirit of Phantastes; and every reader of this +edition will, I believe, feel that the illustrations are a part of the romance, +and will gain through them some perception of the brotherhood between George +MacDonald and Arthur Hughes. +</p> + +<p> +GREVILLE MACDONALD. +</p> + +<p> +September 1905. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap00"></a>PHANTASTES<br /> +A FAERIE ROMANCE</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Phantastes from ‘their fount’ all shapes deriving,<br/> +In new habiliments can quickly dight.”<br/> +FLETCHER’S <i>Purple Island</i> +</p> + + +<p class="poem"> +Es lassen sich Erzählungen ohne Zusammenhang, jedoch mit Association, wie +Träume, denken; Gedichte, die bloss wohlklingend und voll schöner Worte sind, +aber auch ohne allen Sinn und Zusammenhang, höchstens einzelne Strophen +verständlich, wie Bruchstücke aus den verschiedenartigsten Dingen. Diese wahre +Poesie kann höchstens einen allegorischen Sinn in Grossen, und eine indirecte +Wirkung, wie Musik, haben. Darum ist die Natur so rein poetisch, wie die Stube +eines Zauberers, eines Physikers, eine Kinderstube, eine Polter- und +Vorrathskammer.<br/> +<br/> +Ein Märchen ist wie ein Traumbild ohne Zusammenhang. Ein Ensemble wunderbarer +Dinge und Begebenheiten, z. B. eine musikalische Phantasie, die harmonischen +Folgen einer Aeolsharfe, die Natur selbst...<br/> +<br/> +In einem echten Märchen muss alles wunderbar, geheimnissvoll und +zusammenhängend sein; alles belebt, jeder auf eine andere Art. Die ganze Natur +muss wunderlich mit der ganzen Geisterwelt gemischt sein; hier tritt die Zeit +der Anarchie, der Gesetzlosigkeit, Freiheit, der Naturstand der Natur, die Zeit +von der Welt ein . . . Die Welt des Märchens ist die, der Welt der Wahrheit +durchaus entgegengesetzte, und eben darum ihr so durchaus ähnlich, wie das +Chaos der vollendeten Schöpfung ähnlich ist.--NOVALIS. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“A spirit . . .<br/> +. . . . . .<br/> +The undulating and silent well,<br/> +And rippling rivulet, and evening gloom,<br/> +Now deepening the dark shades, for speech assuming,<br/> +Held commune with him; as if he and it<br/> +Were all that was.”<br/> + S<small>HELLEY’S</small> <i>Alastor</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I awoke one morning with the usual perplexity of mind which accompanies the +return of consciousness. As I lay and looked through the eastern window of my +room, a faint streak of peach-colour, dividing a cloud that just rose above the +low swell of the horizon, announced the approach of the sun. As my thoughts, +which a deep and apparently dreamless sleep had dissolved, began again to +assume crystalline forms, the strange events of the foregoing night presented +themselves anew to my wondering consciousness. The day before had been my +one-and-twentieth birthday. Among other ceremonies investing me with my legal +rights, the keys of an old secretary, in which my father had kept his private +papers, had been delivered up to me. As soon as I was left alone, I ordered +lights in the chamber where the secretary stood, the first lights that had been +there for many a year; for, since my father’s death, the room had been +left undisturbed. But, as if the darkness had been too long an inmate to be +easily expelled, and had dyed with blackness the walls to which, bat-like, it +had clung, these tapers served but ill to light up the gloomy hangings, and +seemed to throw yet darker shadows into the hollows of the deep-wrought +cornice. All the further portions of the room lay shrouded in a mystery whose +deepest folds were gathered around the dark oak cabinet which I now approached +with a strange mingling of reverence and curiosity. Perhaps, like a geologist, +I was about to turn up to the light some of the buried strata of the human +world, with its fossil remains charred by passion and petrified by tears. +Perhaps I was to learn how my father, whose personal history was unknown to me, +had woven his web of story; how he had found the world, and how the world had +left him. Perhaps I was to find only the records of lands and moneys, how +gotten and how secured; coming down from strange men, and through troublous +times, to me, who knew little or nothing of them all. To solve my speculations, +and to dispel the awe which was fast gathering around me as if the dead were +drawing near, I approached the secretary; and having found the key that fitted +the upper portion, I opened it with some difficulty, drew near it a heavy +high-backed chair, and sat down before a multitude of little drawers and slides +and pigeon-holes. But the door of a little cupboard in the centre especially +attracted my interest, as if there lay the secret of this long-hidden world. +Its key I found. +</p> + +<p> +One of the rusty hinges cracked and broke as I opened the door: it revealed a +number of small pigeon-holes. These, however, being but shallow compared with +the depth of those around the little cupboard, the outer ones reaching to the +back of the desk, I concluded that there must be some accessible space behind; +and found, indeed, that they were formed in a separate framework, which +admitted of the whole being pulled out in one piece. Behind, I found a sort of +flexible portcullis of small bars of wood laid close together horizontally. +After long search, and trying many ways to move it, I discovered at last a +scarcely projecting point of steel on one side. I pressed this repeatedly and +hard with the point of an old tool that was lying near, till at length it +yielded inwards; and the little slide, flying up suddenly, disclosed a +chamber—empty, except that in one corner lay a little heap of withered +rose-leaves, whose long-lived scent had long since departed; and, in another, a +small packet of papers, tied with a bit of ribbon, whose colour had gone with +the rose-scent. Almost fearing to touch them, they witnessed so mutely to the +law of oblivion, I leaned back in my chair, and regarded them for a moment; +when suddenly there stood on the threshold of the little chamber, as though she +had just emerged from its depth, a tiny woman-form, as perfect in shape as if +she had been a small Greek statuette roused to life and motion. Her dress was +of a kind that could never grow old-fashioned, because it was simply natural: a +robe plaited in a band around the neck, and confined by a belt about the waist, +descended to her feet. It was only afterwards, however, that I took notice of +her dress, although my surprise was by no means of so overpowering a degree as +such an apparition might naturally be expected to excite. Seeing, however, as I +suppose, some astonishment in my countenance, she came forward within a yard of +me, and said, in a voice that strangely recalled a sensation of twilight, and +reedy river banks, and a low wind, even in this deathly room:— +</p> + +<p> +“Anodos, you never saw such a little creature before, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said I; “and indeed I hardly believe I do now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! that is always the way with you men; you believe nothing the first +time; and it is foolish enough to let mere repetition convince you of what you +consider in itself unbelievable. I am not going to argue with you, however, but +to grant you a wish.” +</p> + +<p> +Here I could not help interrupting her with the foolish speech, of which, +however, I had no cause to repent— +</p> + +<p> +“How can such a very little creature as you grant or refuse +anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all the philosophy you have gained in one-and-twenty +years?” said she. “Form is much, but size is nothing. It is a mere +matter of relation. I suppose your six-foot lordship does not feel altogether +insignificant, though to others you do look small beside your old Uncle Ralph, +who rises above you a great half-foot at least. But size is of so little +consequence with old me, that I may as well accommodate myself to your foolish +prejudices.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, she leapt from the desk upon the floor, where she stood a tall, +gracious lady, with pale face and large blue eyes. Her dark hair flowed behind, +wavy but uncurled, down to her waist, and against it her form stood clear in +its robe of white. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said she, “you will believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +Overcome with the presence of a beauty which I could now perceive, and drawn +towards her by an attraction irresistible as incomprehensible, I suppose I +stretched out my arms towards her, for she drew back a step or two, and +said— +</p> + +<p> +“Foolish boy, if you could touch me, I should hurt you. Besides, I was +two hundred and thirty-seven years old, last Midsummer eve; and a man must not +fall in love with his grandmother, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are not my grandmother,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” she retorted. “I dare say you know +something of your great-grandfathers a good deal further back than that; but +you know very little about your great-grandmothers on either side. Now, to the +point. Your little sister was reading a fairy-tale to you last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was.” +</p> + +<p> +“When she had finished, she said, as she closed the book, ‘Is there +a fairy-country, brother?’ You replied with a sigh, ‘I suppose +there is, if one could find the way into it.’” +</p> + +<p> +“I did; but I meant something quite different from what you seem to +think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind what I seem to think. You shall find the way into Fairy Land +to-morrow. Now look in my eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Eagerly I did so. They filled me with an unknown longing. I remembered somehow +that my mother died when I was a baby. I looked deeper and deeper, till they +spread around me like seas, and I sank in their waters. I forgot all the rest, +till I found myself at the window, whose gloomy curtains were withdrawn, and +where I stood gazing on a whole heaven of stars, small and sparkling in the +moonlight. Below lay a sea, still as death and hoary in the moon, sweeping into +bays and around capes and islands, away, away, I knew not whither. Alas! it was +no sea, but a low bog burnished by the moon. “Surely there is such a sea +somewhere!” said I to myself. A low sweet voice beside me replied— +</p> + +<p> +“In Fairy Land, Anodos.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned, but saw no one. I closed the secretary, and went to my own room, and +to bed. +</p> + +<p> +All this I recalled as I lay with half-closed eyes. I was soon to find the +truth of the lady’s promise, that this day I should discover the road +into Fairy Land. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘Where is the stream?’ cried he, with tears. ‘Seest +thou not its blue waves above us?’ He looked up, and lo! the blue stream +was flowing gently over their heads.” —NOVALIS, <i>Heinrich von +Ofterdingen</i>. +</p> + +<p> +While these strange events were passing through my mind, I suddenly, as one +awakes to the consciousness that the sea has been moaning by him for hours, or +that the storm has been howling about his window all night, became aware of the +sound of running water near me; and, looking out of bed, I saw that a large +green marble basin, in which I was wont to wash, and which stood on a low +pedestal of the same material in a corner of my room, was overflowing like a +spring; and that a stream of clear water was running over the carpet, all the +length of the room, finding its outlet I knew not where. And, stranger still, +where this carpet, which I had myself designed to imitate a field of grass and +daisies, bordered the course of the little stream, the grass-blades and daisies +seemed to wave in a tiny breeze that followed the water’s flow; while +under the rivulet they bent and swayed with every motion of the changeful +current, as if they were about to dissolve with it, and, forsaking their fixed +form, become fluent as the waters. +</p> + +<p> +My dressing-table was an old-fashioned piece of furniture of black oak, with +drawers all down the front. These were elaborately carved in foliage, of which +ivy formed the chief part. The nearer end of this table remained just as it had +been, but on the further end a singular change had commenced. I happened to fix +my eye on a little cluster of ivy-leaves. The first of these was evidently the +work of the carver; the next looked curious; the third was unmistakable ivy; +and just beyond it a tendril of clematis had twined itself about the gilt +handle of one of the drawers. Hearing next a slight motion above me, I looked +up, and saw that the branches and leaves designed upon the curtains of my bed +were slightly in motion. Not knowing what change might follow next, I thought +it high time to get up; and, springing from the bed, my bare feet alighted upon +a cool green sward; and although I dressed in all haste, I found myself +completing my toilet under the boughs of a great tree, whose top waved in the +golden stream of the sunrise with many interchanging lights, and with shadows +of leaf and branch gliding over leaf and branch, as the cool morning wind swung +it to and fro, like a sinking sea-wave. +</p> + +<p> +After washing as well as I could in the clear stream, I rose and looked around +me. The tree under which I seemed to have lain all night was one of the +advanced guard of a dense forest, towards which the rivulet ran. Faint traces +of a footpath, much overgrown with grass and moss, and with here and there a +pimpernel even, were discernible along the right bank. “This,” +thought I, “must surely be the path into Fairy Land, which the lady of +last night promised I should so soon find.” I crossed the rivulet, and +accompanied it, keeping the footpath on its right bank, until it led me, as I +expected, into the wood. Here I left it, without any good reason: and with a +vague feeling that I ought to have followed its course, I took a more southerly +direction. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Man doth usurp all space,<br/> +Stares thee, in rock, bush, river, in the face.<br/> +Never thine eyes behold a tree;<br/> +‘Tis no sea thou seest in the sea,<br/> +‘Tis but a disguised humanity.<br/> +To avoid thy fellow, vain thy plan;<br/> +All that interests a man, is man.”<br/> + H<small>ENRY</small> S<small>UTTON</small>. +</p> + +<p> +The trees, which were far apart where I entered, giving free passage to the +level rays of the sun, closed rapidly as I advanced, so that ere long their +crowded stems barred the sunlight out, forming as it were a thick grating +between me and the East. I seemed to be advancing towards a second midnight. In +the midst of the intervening twilight, however, before I entered what appeared +to be the darkest portion of the forest, I saw a country maiden coming towards +me from its very depths. She did not seem to observe me, for she was apparently +intent upon a bunch of wild flowers which she carried in her hand. I could +hardly see her face; for, though she came direct towards me, she never looked +up. But when we met, instead of passing, she turned and walked alongside of me +for a few yards, still keeping her face downwards, and busied with her flowers. +She spoke rapidly, however, all the time, in a low tone, as if talking to +herself, but evidently addressing the purport of her words to me. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed afraid of being observed by some lurking foe. “Trust the +Oak,” said she; “trust the Oak, and the Elm, and the great Beech. +Take care of the Birch, for though she is honest, she is too young not to be +changeable. But shun the Ash and the Alder; for the Ash is an ogre,—you +will know him by his thick fingers; and the Alder will smother you with her web +of hair, if you let her near you at night.” All this was uttered without +pause or alteration of tone. Then she turned suddenly and left me, walking +still with the same unchanging gait. I could not conjecture what she meant, but +satisfied myself with thinking that it would be time enough to find out her +meaning when there was need to make use of her warning, and that the occasion +would reveal the admonition. I concluded from the flowers that she carried, +that the forest could not be everywhere so dense as it appeared from where I +was now walking; and I was right in this conclusion. For soon I came to a more +open part, and by-and-by crossed a wide grassy glade, on which were several +circles of brighter green. But even here I was struck with the utter stillness. +No bird sang. No insect hummed. Not a living creature crossed my way. Yet +somehow the whole environment seemed only asleep, and to wear even in sleep an +air of expectation. The trees seemed all to have an expression of conscious +mystery, as if they said to themselves, “we could, an’ if we +would.” They had all a meaning look about them. Then I remembered that +night is the fairies’ day, and the moon their sun; and I +thought—Everything sleeps and dreams now: when the night comes, it will +be different. At the same time I, being a man and a child of the day, felt some +anxiety as to how I should fare among the elves and other children of the night +who wake when mortals dream, and find their common life in those wondrous hours +that flow noiselessly over the moveless death-like forms of men and women and +children, lying strewn and parted beneath the weight of the heavy waves of +night, which flow on and beat them down, and hold them drowned and senseless, +until the ebbtide comes, and the waves sink away, back into the ocean of the +dark. But I took courage and went on. Soon, however, I became again anxious, +though from another cause. I had eaten nothing that day, and for an hour past +had been feeling the want of food. So I grew afraid lest I should find nothing +to meet my human necessities in this strange place; but once more I comforted +myself with hope and went on. +</p> + +<p> +Before noon, I fancied I saw a thin blue smoke rising amongst the stems of +larger trees in front of me; and soon I came to an open spot of ground in which +stood a little cottage, so built that the stems of four great trees formed its +corners, while their branches met and intertwined over its roof, heaping a +great cloud of leaves over it, up towards the heavens. I wondered at finding a +human dwelling in this neighbourhood; and yet it did not look altogether human, +though sufficiently so to encourage me to expect to find some sort of food. +Seeing no door, I went round to the other side, and there I found one, wide +open. A woman sat beside it, preparing some vegetables for dinner. This was +homely and comforting. As I came near, she looked up, and seeing me, showed no +surprise, but bent her head again over her work, and said in a low tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see my daughter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I did,” said I. “Can you give me something to eat, +for I am very hungry?” “With pleasure,” she replied, in the +same tone; “but do not say anything more, till you come into the house, +for the Ash is watching us.” +</p> + +<p> +Having said this, she rose and led the way into the cottage; which, I now saw, +was built of the stems of small trees set closely together, and was furnished +with rough chairs and tables, from which even the bark had not been removed. As +soon as she had shut the door and set a chair— +</p> + +<p> +“You have fairy blood in you,” said she, looking hard at me. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You could not have got so far into this wood if it were not so; and I am +trying to find out some trace of it in your countenance. I think I see +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you see?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never mind: I may be mistaken in that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how then do you come to live here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I too have fairy blood in me.” +</p> + +<p> +Here I, in my turn, looked hard at her, and thought I could perceive, +notwithstanding the coarseness of her features, and especially the heaviness of +her eyebrows, a something unusual—I could hardly call it grace, and yet +it was an expression that strangely contrasted with the form of her features. I +noticed too that her hands were delicately formed, though brown with work and +exposure. +</p> + +<p> +“I should be ill,” she continued, “if I did not live on the +borders of the fairies’ country, and now and then eat of their food. And +I see by your eyes that you are not quite free of the same need; though, from +your education and the activity of your mind, you have felt it less than I. You +may be further removed too from the fairy race.” +</p> + +<p> +I remembered what the lady had said about my grandmothers. +</p> + +<p> +Here she placed some bread and some milk before me, with a kindly apology for +the homeliness of the fare, with which, however, I was in no humour to quarrel. +I now thought it time to try to get some explanation of the strange words both +of her daughter and herself. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you mean by speaking so about the Ash?” +</p> + +<p> +She rose and looked out of the little window. My eyes followed her; but as the +window was too small to allow anything to be seen from where I was sitting, I +rose and looked over her shoulder. I had just time to see, across the open +space, on the edge of the denser forest, a single large ash-tree, whose foliage +showed bluish, amidst the truer green of the other trees around it; when she +pushed me back with an expression of impatience and terror, and then almost +shut out the light from the window by setting up a large old book in it. +</p> + +<p> +“In general,” said she, recovering her composure, “there is +no danger in the daytime, for then he is sound asleep; but there is something +unusual going on in the woods; there must be some solemnity among the fairies +to-night, for all the trees are restless, and although they cannot come awake, +they see and hear in their sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what danger is to be dreaded from him?” +</p> + +<p> +Instead of answering the question, she went again to the window and looked out, +saying she feared the fairies would be interrupted by foul weather, for a storm +was brewing in the west. +</p> + +<p> +“And the sooner it grows dark, the sooner the Ash will be awake,” +added she. +</p> + +<p> +I asked her how she knew that there was any unusual excitement in the woods. +She replied— +</p> + +<p> +“Besides the look of the trees, the dog there is unhappy; and the eyes +and ears of the white rabbit are redder than usual, and he frisks about as if +he expected some fun. If the cat were at home, she would have her back up; for +the young fairies pull the sparks out of her tail with bramble thorns, and she +knows when they are coming. So do I, in another way.” +</p> + +<p> +At this instant, a grey cat rushed in like a demon, and disappeared in a hole +in the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“There, I told you!” said the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“But what of the ash-tree?” said I, returning once more to the +subject. Here, however, the young woman, whom I had met in the morning, +entered. A smile passed between the mother and daughter; and then the latter +began to help her mother in little household duties. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to stay here till the evening,” I said; “and +then go on my journey, if you will allow me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are welcome to do as you please; only it might be better to stay all +night, than risk the dangers of the wood then. Where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, that I do not know,” I replied, “but I wish to see all +that is to be seen, and therefore I should like to start just at +sundown.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a bold youth, if you have any idea of what you are daring; but a +rash one, if you know nothing about it; and, excuse me, you do not seem very +well informed about the country and its manners. However, no one comes here but +for some reason, either known to himself or to those who have charge of him; so +you shall do just as you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly I sat down, and feeling rather tired, and disinclined for further +talk, I asked leave to look at the old book which still screened the window. +The woman brought it to me directly, but not before taking another look towards +the forest, and then drawing a white blind over the window. I sat down opposite +to it by the table, on which I laid the great old volume, and read. It +contained many wondrous tales of Fairy Land, and olden times, and the Knights +of King Arthur’s table. I read on and on, till the shades of the +afternoon began to deepen; for in the midst of the forest it gloomed earlier +than in the open country. At length I came to this passage— +</p> + +<p> +“Here it chanced, that upon their quest, Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale +rencountered in the depths of a great forest. Now, Sir Galahad was dight all in +harness of silver, clear and shining; the which is a delight to look upon, but +full hasty to tarnish, and withouten the labour of a ready squire, uneath to be +kept fair and clean. And yet withouten squire or page, Sir Galahad’s +armour shone like the moon. And he rode a great white mare, whose bases and +other housings were black, but all besprent with fair lilys of silver sheen. +Whereas Sir Percivale bestrode a red horse, with a tawny mane and tail; whose +trappings were all to-smirched with mud and mire; and his armour was wondrous +rosty to behold, ne could he by any art furbish it again; so that as the sun in +his going down shone twixt the bare trunks of the trees, full upon the knights +twain, the one did seem all shining with light, and the other all to glow with +ruddy fire. Now it came about in this wise. For Sir Percivale, after his escape +from the demon lady, whenas the cross on the handle of his sword smote him to +the heart, and he rove himself through the thigh, and escaped away, he came to +a great wood; and, in nowise cured of his fault, yet bemoaning the same, the +damosel of the alder tree encountered him, right fair to see; and with her fair +words and false countenance she comforted him and beguiled him, until he +followed her where she led him to a—-” +</p> + +<p> +Here a low hurried cry from my hostess caused me to look up from the book, and +I read no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Look there!” she said; “look at his fingers!” +</p> + +<p> +Just as I had been reading in the book, the setting sun was shining through a +cleft in the clouds piled up in the west; and a shadow as of a large distorted +hand, with thick knobs and humps on the fingers, so that it was much wider +across the fingers than across the undivided part of the hand, passed slowly +over the little blind, and then as slowly returned in the opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +“He is almost awake, mother; and greedier than usual to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, child; you need not make him more angry with us than he is; for +you do not know how soon something may happen to oblige us to be in the forest +after nightfall.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are in the forest,” said I; “how is it that you are +safe here?” +</p> + +<p> +“He dares not come nearer than he is now,” she replied; “for +any of those four oaks, at the corners of our cottage, would tear him to +pieces; they are our friends. But he stands there and makes awful faces at us +sometimes, and stretches out his long arms and fingers, and tries to kill us +with fright; for, indeed, that is his favourite way of doing. Pray, keep out of +his way to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I be able to see these things?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“That I cannot tell yet, not knowing how much of the fairy nature there +is in you. But we shall soon see whether you can discern the fairies in my +little garden, and that will be some guide to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are the trees fairies too, as well as the flowers?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“They are of the same race,” she replied; “though those you +call fairies in your country are chiefly the young children of the flower +fairies. They are very fond of having fun with the thick people, as they call +you; for, like most children, they like fun better than anything else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you have flowers so near you then? Do they not annoy you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, they are very amusing, with their mimicries of grown people, and +mock solemnities. Sometimes they will act a whole play through before my eyes, +with perfect composure and assurance, for they are not afraid of me. Only, as +soon as they have done, they burst into peals of tiny laughter, as if it was +such a joke to have been serious over anything. These I speak of, however, are +the fairies of the garden. They are more staid and educated than those of the +fields and woods. Of course they have near relations amongst the wild flowers, +but they patronise them, and treat them as country cousins, who know nothing of +life, and very little of manners. Now and then, however, they are compelled to +envy the grace and simplicity of the natural flowers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do they live <i>in</i> the flowers?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell,” she replied. “There is something in it I do +not understand. Sometimes they disappear altogether, even from me, though I +know they are near. They seem to die always with the flowers they resemble, and +by whose names they are called; but whether they return to life with the fresh +flowers, or, whether it be new flowers, new fairies, I cannot tell. They have +as many sorts of dispositions as men and women, while their moods are yet more +variable; twenty different expressions will cross their little faces in half a +minute. I often amuse myself with watching them, but I have never been able to +make personal acquaintance with any of them. If I speak to one, he or she looks +up in my face, as if I were not worth heeding, gives a little laugh, and runs +away.” Here the woman started, as if suddenly recollecting herself, and +said in a low voice to her daughter, “Make haste—go and watch him, +and see in what direction he goes.” +</p> + +<p> +I may as well mention here, that the conclusion I arrived at from the +observations I was afterwards able to make, was, that the flowers die because +the fairies go away; not that the fairies disappear because the flowers die. +The flowers seem a sort of houses for them, or outer bodies, which they can put +on or off when they please. Just as you could form some idea of the nature of a +man from the kind of house he built, if he followed his own taste, so you +could, without seeing the fairies, tell what any one of them is like, by +looking at the flower till you feel that you understand it. For just what the +flower says to you, would the face and form of the fairy say; only so much more +plainly as a face and human figure can express more than a flower. For the +house or the clothes, though like the inhabitant or the wearer, cannot be +wrought into an equal power of utterance. Yet you would see a strange +resemblance, almost oneness, between the flower and the fairy, which you could +not describe, but which described itself to you. Whether all the flowers have +fairies, I cannot determine, any more than I can be sure whether all men and +women have souls. +</p> + +<p> +The woman and I continued the conversation for a few minutes longer. I was much +interested by the information she gave me, and astonished at the language in +which she was able to convey it. It seemed that intercourse with the fairies +was no bad education in itself. But now the daughter returned with the news, +that the Ash had just gone away in a south-westerly direction; and, as my +course seemed to lie eastward, she hoped I should be in no danger of meeting +him if I departed at once. I looked out of the little window, and there stood +the ash-tree, to my eyes the same as before; but I believed that they knew +better than I did, and prepared to go. I pulled out my purse, but to my dismay +there was nothing in it. The woman with a smile begged me not to trouble +myself, for money was not of the slightest use there; and as I might meet with +people in my journeys whom I could not recognise to be fairies, it was well I +had no money to offer, for nothing offended them so much. +</p> + +<p> +“They would think,” she added, “that you were making game of +them; and that is their peculiar privilege with regard to us.” So we went +together into the little garden which sloped down towards a lower part of the +wood. +</p> + +<p> +Here, to my great pleasure, all was life and bustle. There was still light +enough from the day to see a little; and the pale half-moon, halfway to the +zenith, was reviving every moment. The whole garden was like a carnival, with +tiny, gaily decorated forms, in groups, assemblies, processions, pairs or +trios, moving stately on, running about wildly, or sauntering hither or +thither. From the cups or bells of tall flowers, as from balconies, some looked +down on the masses below, now bursting with laughter, now grave as owls; but +even in their deepest solemnity, seeming only to be waiting for the arrival of +the next laugh. Some were launched on a little marshy stream at the bottom, in +boats chosen from the heaps of last year’s leaves that lay about, curled +and withered. These soon sank with them; whereupon they swam ashore and got +others. Those who took fresh rose-leaves for their boats floated the longest; +but for these they had to fight; for the fairy of the rose-tree complained +bitterly that they were stealing her clothes, and defended her property +bravely. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t wear half you’ve got,” said some. +</p> + +<p> +“Never you mind; I don’t choose you to have them: they are my +property.” +</p> + +<p> +“All for the good of the community!” said one, and ran off with a +great hollow leaf. But the rose-fairy sprang after him (what a beauty she was! +only too like a drawing-room young lady), knocked him heels-over-head as he +ran, and recovered her great red leaf. But in the meantime twenty had hurried +off in different directions with others just as good; and the little creature +sat down and cried, and then, in a pet, sent a perfect pink snowstorm of petals +from her tree, leaping from branch to branch, and stamping and shaking and +pulling. At last, after another good cry, she chose the biggest she could find, +and ran away laughing, to launch her boat amongst the rest. +</p> + +<p> +But my attention was first and chiefly attracted by a group of fairies near the +cottage, who were talking together around what seemed a last dying primrose. +They talked singing, and their talk made a song, something like this: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Sister Snowdrop died<br/> + Before we were born.”<br/> +“She came like a bride<br/> + In a snowy morn.”<br/> +“What’s a bride?”<br/> + “What is snow?<br/> +“Never tried.”<br/> + “Do not know.”<br/> +<br/> +“Who told you about her?”<br/> + “Little Primrose there<br/> +Cannot do without her.”<br/> + “Oh, so sweetly fair!”<br/> +“Never fear,<br/> + She will come,<br/> +Primrose dear.”<br/> + “Is she dumb?”<br/> +<br/> +“She’ll come by-and-by.”<br/> + “You will never see her.”<br/> +“She went home to die,<br/> + “Till the new year.”<br/> +“Snowdrop!” “‘Tis no good<br/> + To invite her.”<br/> +“Primrose is very rude,<br/> + “I will bite her.”<br/> +<br/> +“Oh, you naughty Pocket!<br/> + “Look, she drops her head.”<br/> +“She deserved it, Rocket,<br/> + “And she was nearly dead.”<br/> +“To your hammock—off with you!”<br/> + “And swing alone.”<br/> +“No one will laugh with you.”<br/> + “No, not one.”<br/> +<br/> +“Now let us moan.”<br/> + “And cover her o’er.”<br/> +“Primrose is gone.”<br/> + “All but the flower.”<br/> +“Here is a leaf.”<br/> + “Lay her upon it.”<br/> +“Follow in grief.”<br/> + “Pocket has done it.”<br/> +<br/> +“Deeper, poor creature!<br/> + Winter may come.”<br/> +“He cannot reach her—<br/> + That is a hum.”<br/> +“She is buried, the beauty!”<br/> + “Now she is done.”<br/> +“That was the duty.”<br/> + “Now for the fun.” +</p> + +<p> +And with a wild laugh they sprang away, most of them towards the cottage. +During the latter part of the song-talk, they had formed themselves into a +funeral procession, two of them bearing poor Primrose, whose death Pocket had +hastened by biting her stalk, upon one of her own great leaves. They bore her +solemnly along some distance, and then buried her under a tree. Although I say +<i>her</i> I saw nothing but the withered primrose-flower on its long stalk. +Pocket, who had been expelled from the company by common consent, went sulkily +away towards her hammock, for she was the fairy of the calceolaria, and looked +rather wicked. When she reached its stem, she stopped and looked round. I could +not help speaking to her, for I stood near her. I said, “Pocket, how +could you be so naughty?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am never naughty,” she said, half-crossly, half-defiantly; +“only if you come near my hammock, I will bite you, and then you will go +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you bite poor Primrose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because she said we should never see Snowdrop; as if we were not good +enough to look at her, and she was, the proud thing!—served her +right!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Pocket, Pocket,” said I; but by this time the party which had +gone towards the house, rushed out again, shouting and screaming with laughter. +Half of them were on the cat’s back, and half held on by her fur and +tail, or ran beside her; till, more coming to their help, the furious cat was +held fast; and they proceeded to pick the sparks out of her with thorns and +pins, which they handled like harpoons. Indeed, there were more instruments at +work about her than there could have been sparks in her. One little fellow who +held on hard by the tip of the tail, with his feet planted on the ground at an +angle of forty-five degrees, helping to keep her fast, administered a +continuous flow of admonitions to Pussy. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Pussy, be patient. You know quite well it is all for your good. You +cannot be comfortable with all those sparks in you; and, indeed, I am +charitably disposed to believe” (here he became very pompous) “that +they are the cause of all your bad temper; so we must have them all out, every +one; else we shall be reduced to the painful necessity of cutting your claws, +and pulling out your eye-teeth. Quiet! Pussy, quiet!” +</p> + +<p> +But with a perfect hurricane of feline curses, the poor animal broke loose, and +dashed across the garden and through the hedge, faster than even the fairies +could follow. “Never mind, never mind, we shall find her again; and by +that time she will have laid in a fresh stock of sparks. Hooray!” And off +they set, after some new mischief. +</p> + +<p> +But I will not linger to enlarge on the amusing display of these frolicsome +creatures. Their manners and habits are now so well known to the world, having +been so often described by eyewitnesses, that it would be only indulging +self-conceit, to add my account in full to the rest. I cannot help wishing, +however, that my readers could see them for themselves. Especially do I desire +that they should see the fairy of the daisy; a little, chubby, round-eyed +child, with such innocent trust in his look! Even the most mischievous of the +fairies would not tease him, although he did not belong to their set at all, +but was quite a little country bumpkin. He wandered about alone, and looked at +everything, with his hands in his little pockets, and a white night-cap on, the +darling! He was not so beautiful as many other wild flowers I saw afterwards, +but so dear and loving in his looks and little confident ways. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest.”<br/> +<i>Ballad of Sir Aldingar</i>. +</p> + +<p> +By this time, my hostess was quite anxious that I should be gone. So, with warm +thanks for their hospitality, I took my leave, and went my way through the +little garden towards the forest. Some of the garden flowers had wandered into +the wood, and were growing here and there along the path, but the trees soon +became too thick and shadowy for them. I particularly noticed some tall lilies, +which grew on both sides of the way, with large dazzlingly white flowers, set +off by the universal green. It was now dark enough for me to see that every +flower was shining with a light of its own. Indeed it was by this light that I +saw them, an internal, peculiar light, proceeding from each, and not reflected +from a common source of light as in the daytime. This light sufficed only for +the plant itself, and was not strong enough to cast any but the faintest +shadows around it, or to illuminate any of the neighbouring objects with other +than the faintest tinge of its own individual hue. From the lilies above +mentioned, from the campanulas, from the foxgloves, and every bell-shaped +flower, curious little figures shot up their heads, peeped at me, and drew +back. They seemed to inhabit them, as snails their shells; but I was sure some +of them were intruders, and belonged to the gnomes or goblin-fairies, who +inhabit the ground and earthy creeping plants. From the cups of Arum lilies, +creatures with great heads and grotesque faces shot up like Jack-in-the-box, +and made grimaces at me; or rose slowly and slily over the edge of the cup, and +spouted water at me, slipping suddenly back, like those little soldier-crabs +that inhabit the shells of sea-snails. Passing a row of tall thistles, I saw +them crowded with little faces, which peeped every one from behind its flower, +and drew back as quickly; and I heard them saying to each other, evidently +intending me to hear, but the speaker always hiding behind his tuft, when I +looked in his direction, “Look at him! Look at him! He has begun a story +without a beginning, and it will never have any end. He! he! he! Look at +him!” +</p> + +<p> +But as I went further into the wood, these sights and sounds became fewer, +giving way to others of a different character. A little forest of wild +hyacinths was alive with exquisite creatures, who stood nearly motionless, with +drooping necks, holding each by the stem of her flower, and swaying gently with +it, whenever a low breath of wind swung the crowded floral belfry. In like +manner, though differing of course in form and meaning, stood a group of +harebells, like little angels waiting, ready, till they were wanted to go on +some yet unknown message. In darker nooks, by the mossy roots of the trees, or +in little tufts of grass, each dwelling in a globe of its own green light, +weaving a network of grass and its shadows, glowed the glowworms. +</p> + +<p> +They were just like the glowworms of our own land, for they are fairies +everywhere; worms in the day, and glowworms at night, when their own can +appear, and they can be themselves to others as well as themselves. But they +had their enemies here. For I saw great strong-armed beetles, hurrying about +with most unwieldy haste, awkward as elephant-calves, looking apparently for +glowworms; for the moment a beetle espied one, through what to it was a forest +of grass, or an underwood of moss, it pounced upon it, and bore it away, in +spite of its feeble resistance. Wondering what their object could be, I watched +one of the beetles, and then I discovered a thing I could not account for. But +it is no use trying to account for things in Fairy Land; and one who travels +there soon learns to forget the very idea of doing so, and takes everything as +it comes; like a child, who, being in a chronic condition of wonder, is +surprised at nothing. What I saw was this. Everywhere, here and there over the +ground, lay little, dark-looking lumps of something more like earth than +anything else, and about the size of a chestnut. The beetles hunted in couples +for these; and having found one, one of them stayed to watch it, while the +other hurried to find a glowworm. By signals, I presume, between them, the +latter soon found his companion again: they then took the glowworm and held its +luminous tail to the dark earthly pellet; when lo, it shot up into the air like +a sky-rocket, seldom, however, reaching the height of the highest tree. Just +like a rocket too, it burst in the air, and fell in a shower of the most +gorgeously coloured sparks of every variety of hue; golden and red, and purple +and green, and blue and rosy fires crossed and inter-crossed each other, +beneath the shadowy heads, and between the columnar stems of the forest trees. +They never used the same glowworm twice, I observed; but let him go, apparently +uninjured by the use they had made of him. +</p> + +<p> +In other parts, the whole of the immediately surrounding foliage was +illuminated by the interwoven dances in the air of splendidly coloured +fire-flies, which sped hither and thither, turned, twisted, crossed, and +recrossed, entwining every complexity of intervolved motion. Here and there, +whole mighty trees glowed with an emitted phosphorescent light. You could trace +the very course of the great roots in the earth by the faint light that came +through; and every twig, and every vein on every leaf was a streak of pale +fire. +</p> + +<p> +All this time, as I went through the wood, I was haunted with the feeling that +other shapes, more like my own size and mien, were moving about at a little +distance on all sides of me. But as yet I could discern none of them, although +the moon was high enough to send a great many of her rays down between the +trees, and these rays were unusually bright, and sight-giving, notwithstanding +she was only a half-moon. I constantly imagined, however, that forms were +visible in all directions except that to which my gaze was turned; and that +they only became invisible, or resolved themselves into other woodland shapes, +the moment my looks were directed towards them. However this may have been, +except for this feeling of presence, the woods seemed utterly bare of anything +like human companionship, although my glance often fell on some object which I +fancied to be a human form; for I soon found that I was quite deceived; as, the +moment I fixed my regard on it, it showed plainly that it was a bush, or a +tree, or a rock. +</p> + +<p> +Soon a vague sense of discomfort possessed me. With variations of relief, this +gradually increased; as if some evil thing were wandering about in my +neighbourhood, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off, but still +approaching. The feeling continued and deepened, until all my pleasure in the +shows of various kinds that everywhere betokened the presence of the merry +fairies vanished by degrees, and left me full of anxiety and fear, which I was +unable to associate with any definite object whatever. At length the thought +crossed my mind with horror: “Can it be possible that the Ash is looking +for me? or that, in his nightly wanderings, his path is gradually verging +towards mine?” I comforted myself, however, by remembering that he had +started quite in another direction; one that would lead him, if he kept it, far +apart from me; especially as, for the last two or three hours, I had been +diligently journeying eastward. I kept on my way, therefore, striving by direct +effort of the will against the encroaching fear; and to this end occupying my +mind, as much as I could, with other thoughts. I was so far successful that, +although I was conscious, if I yielded for a moment, I should be almost +overwhelmed with horror, I was yet able to walk right on for an hour or more. +What I feared I could not tell. Indeed, I was left in a state of the vaguest +uncertainty as regarded the nature of my enemy, and knew not the mode or object +of his attacks; for, somehow or other, none of my questions had succeeded in +drawing a definite answer from the dame in the cottage. How then to defend +myself I knew not; nor even by what sign I might with certainty recognise the +presence of my foe; for as yet this vague though powerful fear was all the +indication of danger I had. To add to my distress, the clouds in the west had +risen nearly to the top of the skies, and they and the moon were travelling +slowly towards each other. Indeed, some of their advanced guard had already met +her, and she had begun to wade through a filmy vapour that gradually deepened. +</p> + +<p> +At length she was for a moment almost entirely obscured. When she shone out +again, with a brilliancy increased by the contrast, I saw plainly on the path +before me—from around which at this spot the trees receded, leaving a +small space of green sward—the shadow of a large hand, with knotty joints +and protuberances here and there. Especially I remarked, even in the midst of +my fear, the bulbous points of the fingers. I looked hurriedly all around, but +could see nothing from which such a shadow should fall. Now, however, that I +had a direction, however undetermined, in which to project my apprehension, the +very sense of danger and need of action overcame that stifling which is the +worst property of fear. I reflected in a moment, that if this were indeed a +shadow, it was useless to look for the object that cast it in any other +direction than between the shadow and the moon. I looked, and peered, and +intensified my vision, all to no purpose. I could see nothing of that kind, not +even an ash-tree in the neighbourhood. Still the shadow remained; not steady, +but moving to and fro, and once I saw the fingers close, and grind themselves +close, like the claws of a wild animal, as if in uncontrollable longing for +some anticipated prey. There seemed but one mode left of discovering the +substance of this shadow. I went forward boldly, though with an inward shudder +which I would not heed, to the spot where the shadow lay, threw myself on the +ground, laid my head within the form of the hand, and turned my eyes towards +the moon. Good heavens! what did I see? I wonder that ever I arose, and that +the very shadow of the hand did not hold me where I lay until fear had frozen +my brain. I saw the strangest figure; vague, shadowy, almost transparent, in +the central parts, and gradually deepening in substance towards the outside, +until it ended in extremities capable of casting such a shadow as fell from the +hand, through the awful fingers of which I now saw the moon. The hand was +uplifted in the attitude of a paw about to strike its prey. But the face, which +throbbed with fluctuating and pulsatory visibility—not from changes in +the light it reflected, but from changes in its own conditions of reflecting +power, the alterations being from within, not from without—it was +horrible. I do not know how to describe it. It caused a new sensation. Just as +one cannot translate a horrible odour, or a ghastly pain, or a fearful sound, +into words, so I cannot describe this new form of awful hideousness. I can only +try to describe something that is not it, but seems somewhat parallel to it; or +at least is suggested by it. It reminded me of what I had heard of vampires; +for the face resembled that of a corpse more than anything else I can think of; +especially when I can conceive such a face in motion, but not suggesting any +life as the source of the motion. The features were rather handsome than +otherwise, except the mouth, which had scarcely a curve in it. The lips were of +equal thickness; but the thickness was not at all remarkable, even although +they looked slightly swollen. They seemed fixedly open, but were not wide +apart. Of course I did not <i>remark</i> these lineaments at the time: I was +too horrified for that. I noted them afterwards, when the form returned on my +inward sight with a vividness too intense to admit of my doubting the accuracy +of the reflex. But the most awful of the features were the eyes. These were +alive, yet not with life. +</p> + +<p> +They seemed lighted up with an infinite greed. A gnawing voracity, which +devoured the devourer, seemed to be the indwelling and propelling power of the +whole ghostly apparition. I lay for a few moments simply imbruted with terror; +when another cloud, obscuring the moon, delivered me from the immediately +paralysing effects of the presence to the vision of the object of horror, while +it added the force of imagination to the power of fear within me; inasmuch as, +knowing far worse cause for apprehension than before, I remained equally +ignorant from what I had to defend myself, or how to take any precautions: he +might be upon me in the darkness any moment. I sprang to my feet, and sped I +knew not whither, only away from the spectre. I thought no longer of the path, +and often narrowly escaped dashing myself against a tree, in my headlong flight +of fear. +</p> + +<p> +Great drops of rain began to patter on the leaves. Thunder began to mutter, +then growl in the distance. I ran on. The rain fell heavier. At length the +thick leaves could hold it up no longer; and, like a second firmament, they +poured their torrents on the earth. I was soon drenched, but that was nothing. +I came to a small swollen stream that rushed through the woods. I had a vague +hope that if I crossed this stream, I should be in safety from my pursuer; but +I soon found that my hope was as false as it was vague. I dashed across the +stream, ascended a rising ground, and reached a more open space, where stood +only great trees. Through them I directed my way, holding eastward as nearly as +I could guess, but not at all certain that I was not moving in an opposite +direction. My mind was just reviving a little from its extreme terror, when, +suddenly, a flash of lightning, or rather a cataract of successive flashes, +behind me, seemed to throw on the ground in front of me, but far more faintly +than before, from the extent of the source of the light, the shadow of the same +horrible hand. I sprang forward, stung to yet wilder speed; but had not run +many steps before my foot slipped, and, vainly attempting to recover myself, I +fell at the foot of one of the large trees. Half-stunned, I yet raised myself, +and almost involuntarily looked back. All I saw was the hand within three feet +of my face. But, at the same moment, I felt two large soft arms thrown round me +from behind; and a voice like a woman’s said: “Do not fear the +goblin; he dares not hurt you now.” With that, the hand was suddenly +withdrawn as from a fire, and disappeared in the darkness and the rain. +Overcome with the mingling of terror and joy, I lay for some time almost +insensible. The first thing I remember is the sound of a voice above me, full +and low, and strangely reminding me of the sound of a gentle wind amidst the +leaves of a great tree. It murmured over and over again: “I may love him, +I may love him; for he is a man, and I am only a beech-tree.” I found I +was seated on the ground, leaning against a human form, and supported still by +the arms around me, which I knew to be those of a woman who must be rather +above the human size, and largely proportioned. I turned my head, but without +moving otherwise, for I feared lest the arms should untwine themselves; and +clear, somewhat mournful eyes met mine. At least that is how they impressed me; +but I could see very little of colour or outline as we sat in the dark and +rainy shadow of the tree. The face seemed very lovely, and solemn from its +stillness; with the aspect of one who is quite content, but waiting for +something. I saw my conjecture from her arms was correct: she was above the +human scale throughout, but not greatly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you call yourself a beech-tree?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am one,” she replied, in the same low, musical, +murmuring voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a woman,” I returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so? Am I very like a woman then?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a very beautiful woman. Is it possible you should not know +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very glad you think so. I fancy I feel like a woman sometimes. I do +so to-night—and always when the rain drips from my hair. For there is an +old prophecy in our woods that one day we shall all be men and women like you. +Do you know anything about it in your region? Shall I be very happy when I am a +woman? I fear not, for it is always in nights like these that I feel like one. +But I long to be a woman for all that.” +</p> + +<p> +I had let her talk on, for her voice was like a solution of all musical sounds. +I now told her that I could hardly say whether women were happy or not. I knew +one who had not been happy; and for my part, I had often longed for Fairy Land, +as she now longed for the world of men. But then neither of us had lived long, +and perhaps people grew happier as they grew older. Only I doubted it. +</p> + +<p> +I could not help sighing. She felt the sigh, for her arms were still round me. +She asked me how old I was. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-one,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you baby!” said she, and kissed me with the sweetest kiss of +winds and odours. There was a cool faithfulness in the kiss that revived my +heart wonderfully. I felt that I feared the dreadful Ash no more. +</p> + +<p> +“What did the horrible Ash want with me?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not quite sure, but I think he wants to bury you at the foot of his +tree. But he shall not touch you, my child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are all the ash-trees as dreadful as he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no. They are all disagreeable selfish creatures—(what horrid +men they will make, if it be true!)—but this one has a hole in his heart +that nobody knows of but one or two; and he is always trying to fill it up, but +he cannot. That must be what he wanted you for. I wonder if he will ever be a +man. If he is, I hope they will kill him.” +</p> + +<p> +“How kind of you to save me from him!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will take care that he shall not come near you again. But there are +some in the wood more like me, from whom, alas! I cannot protect you. Only if +you see any of them very beautiful, try to walk round them.” +</p> + +<p> +“What then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you more. But now I must tie some of my hair about you, +and then the Ash will not touch you. Here, cut some off. You men have strange +cutting things about you.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her long hair loose over me, never moving her arms. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot cut your beautiful hair. It would be a shame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not cut my hair! It will have grown long enough before any is wanted +again in this wild forest. Perhaps it may never be of any use again—not +till I am a woman.” And she sighed. +</p> + +<p> +As gently as I could, I cut with a knife a long tress of flowing, dark hair, +she hanging her beautiful head over me. When I had finished, she shuddered and +breathed deep, as one does when an acute pain, steadfastly endured without sign +of suffering, is at length relaxed. She then took the hair and tied it round +me, singing a strange, sweet song, which I could not understand, but which left +in me a feeling like this— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“I saw thee ne’er before;<br/> +I see thee never more;<br/> +But love, and help, and pain, beautiful one,<br/> +Have made thee mine, till all my years are done.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I cannot put more of it into words. She closed her arms about me again, and +went on singing. The rain in the leaves, and a light wind that had arisen, kept +her song company. I was wrapt in a trance of still delight. It told me the +secret of the woods, and the flowers, and the birds. At one time I felt as if I +was wandering in childhood through sunny spring forests, over carpets of +primroses, anemones, and little white starry things—I had almost said +creatures, and finding new wonderful flowers at every turn. At another, I lay +half dreaming in the hot summer noon, with a book of old tales beside me, +beneath a great beech; or, in autumn, grew sad because I trod on the leaves +that had sheltered me, and received their last blessing in the sweet odours of +decay; or, in a winter evening, frozen still, looked up, as I went home to a +warm fireside, through the netted boughs and twigs to the cold, snowy moon, +with her opal zone around her. At last I had fallen asleep; for I know nothing +more that passed till I found myself lying under a superb beech-tree, in the +clear light of the morning, just before sunrise. Around me was a girdle of +fresh beech-leaves. Alas! I brought nothing with me out of Fairy Land, but +memories—memories. The great boughs of the beech hung drooping around me. +At my head rose its smooth stem, with its great sweeps of curving surface that +swelled like undeveloped limbs. The leaves and branches above kept on the song +which had sung me asleep; only now, to my mind, it sounded like a farewell and +a speedwell. I sat a long time, unwilling to go; but my unfinished story urged +me on. I must act and wander. With the sun well risen, I rose, and put my arms +as far as they would reach around the beech-tree, and kissed it, and said +good-bye. A trembling went through the leaves; a few of the last drops of the +night’s rain fell from off them at my feet; and as I walked slowly away, +I seemed to hear in a whisper once more the words: “I may love him, I may +love him; for he is a man, and I am only a beech-tree.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“And she was smooth and full, as if one gush<br/> +Of life had washed her, or as if a sleep<br/> +Lay on her eyelid, easier to sweep<br/> +Than bee from daisy.”<br/> + B<small>EDDOES</small>’ <i>Pygmalion</i>.<br/> +<br/> +“Sche was as whyt as lylye yn May,<br/> +Or snow that sneweth yn wynterys day.”<br/> + <i>Romance of Sir Launfal</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I walked on, in the fresh morning air, as if new-born. The only thing that +damped my pleasure was a cloud of something between sorrow and delight that +crossed my mind with the frequently returning thought of my last night’s +hostess. “But then,” thought I, “if she is sorry, I could not +help it; and she has all the pleasures she ever had. Such a day as this is +surely a joy to her, as much at least as to me. And her life will perhaps be +the richer, for holding now within it the memory of what came, but could not +stay. And if ever she is a woman, who knows but we may meet somewhere? there is +plenty of room for meeting in the universe.” Comforting myself thus, yet +with a vague compunction, as if I ought not to have left her, I went on. There +was little to distinguish the woods to-day from those of my own land; except +that all the wild things, rabbits, birds, squirrels, mice, and the numberless +other inhabitants, were very tame; that is, they did not run away from me, but +gazed at me as I passed, frequently coming nearer, as if to examine me more +closely. Whether this came from utter ignorance, or from familiarity with the +human appearance of beings who never hurt them, I could not tell. As I stood +once, looking up to the splendid flower of a parasite, which hung from the +branch of a tree over my head, a large white rabbit cantered slowly up, put one +of its little feet on one of mine, and looked up at me with its red eyes, just +as I had been looking up at the flower above me. I stooped and stroked it; but +when I attempted to lift it, it banged the ground with its hind feet and +scampered off at a great rate, turning, however, to look at me several times +before I lost sight of it. Now and then, too, a dim human figure would appear +and disappear, at some distance, amongst the trees, moving like a sleep-walker. +But no one ever came near me. +</p> + +<p> +This day I found plenty of food in the forest—strange nuts and fruits I +had never seen before. I hesitated to eat them; but argued that, if I could +live on the air of Fairy Land, I could live on its food also. I found my +reasoning correct, and the result was better than I had hoped; for it not only +satisfied my hunger, but operated in such a way upon my senses that I was +brought into far more complete relationship with the things around me. The +human forms appeared much more dense and defined; more tangibly visible, if I +may say so. I seemed to know better which direction to choose when any doubt +arose. I began to feel in some degree what the birds meant in their songs, +though I could not express it in words, any more than you can some landscapes. +At times, to my surprise, I found myself listening attentively, and as if it +were no unusual thing with me, to a conversation between two squirrels or +monkeys. The subjects were not very interesting, except as associated with the +individual life and necessities of the little creatures: where the best nuts +were to be found in the neighbourhood, and who could crack them best, or who +had most laid up for the winter, and such like; only they never said where the +store was. There was no great difference in kind between their talk and our +ordinary human conversation. Some of the creatures I never heard speak at all, +and believe they never do so, except under the impulse of some great +excitement. The mice talked; but the hedgehogs seemed very phlegmatic; and +though I met a couple of moles above ground several times, they never said a +word to each other in my hearing. There were no wild beasts in the forest; at +least, I did not see one larger than a wild cat. There were plenty of snakes, +however, and I do not think they were all harmless; but none ever bit me. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after mid-day I arrived at a bare rocky hill, of no great size, but very +steep; and having no trees—scarcely even a bush—upon it, entirely +exposed to the heat of the sun. Over this my way seemed to lie, and I +immediately began the ascent. On reaching the top, hot and weary, I looked +around me, and saw that the forest still stretched as far as the sight could +reach on every side of me. I observed that the trees, in the direction in which +I was about to descend, did not come so near the foot of the hill as on the +other side, and was especially regretting the unexpected postponement of +shelter, because this side of the hill seemed more difficult to descend than +the other had been to climb, when my eye caught the appearance of a natural +path, winding down through broken rocks and along the course of a tiny stream, +which I hoped would lead me more easily to the foot. I tried it, and found the +descent not at all laborious; nevertheless, when I reached the bottom, I was +very tired and exhausted with the heat. But just where the path seemed to end, +rose a great rock, quite overgrown with shrubs and creeping plants, some of +them in full and splendid blossom: these almost concealed an opening in the +rock, into which the path appeared to lead. I entered, thirsting for the shade +which it promised. What was my delight to find a rocky cell, all the angles +rounded away with rich moss, and every ledge and projection crowded with lovely +ferns, the variety of whose forms, and groupings, and shades wrought in me like +a poem; for such a harmony could not exist, except they all consented to some +one end! A little well of the clearest water filled a mossy hollow in one +corner. I drank, and felt as if I knew what the elixir of life must be; then +threw myself on a mossy mound that lay like a couch along the inner end. Here I +lay in a delicious reverie for some time; during which all lovely forms, and +colours, and sounds seemed to use my brain as a common hall, where they could +come and go, unbidden and unexcused. I had never imagined that such capacity +for simple happiness lay in me, as was now awakened by this assembly of forms +and spiritual sensations, which yet were far too vague to admit of being +translated into any shape common to my own and another mind. I had lain for an +hour, I should suppose, though it may have been far longer, when, the +harmonious tumult in my mind having somewhat relaxed, I became aware that my +eyes were fixed on a strange, time-worn bas-relief on the rock opposite to me. +This, after some pondering, I concluded to represent Pygmalion, as he awaited +the quickening of his statue. The sculptor sat more rigid than the figure to +which his eyes were turned. That seemed about to step from its pedestal and +embrace the man, who waited rather than expected. +</p> + +<p> +“A lovely story,” I said to myself. “This cave, now, with the +bushes cut away from the entrance to let the light in, might be such a place as +he would choose, withdrawn from the notice of men, to set up his block of +marble, and mould into a visible body the thought already clothed with form in +the unseen hall of the sculptor’s brain. And, indeed, if I mistake +not,” I said, starting up, as a sudden ray of light arrived at that +moment through a crevice in the roof, and lighted up a small portion of the +rock, bare of vegetation, “this very rock is marble, white enough and +delicate enough for any statue, even if destined to become an ideal woman in +the arms of the sculptor.” +</p> + +<p> +I took my knife and removed the moss from a part of the block on which I had +been lying; when, to my surprise, I found it more like alabaster than ordinary +marble, and soft to the edge of the knife. In fact, it was alabaster. By an +inexplicable, though by no means unusual kind of impulse, I went on removing +the moss from the surface of the stone; and soon saw that it was polished, or +at least smooth, throughout. I continued my labour; and after clearing a space +of about a couple of square feet, I observed what caused me to prosecute the +work with more interest and care than before. For the ray of sunlight had now +reached the spot I had cleared, and under its lustre the alabaster revealed its +usual slight transparency when polished, except where my knife had scratched +the surface; and I observed that the transparency seemed to have a definite +limit, and to end upon an opaque body like the more solid, white marble. I was +careful to scratch no more. And first, a vague anticipation gave way to a +startling sense of possibility; then, as I proceeded, one revelation after +another produced the entrancing conviction, that under the crust of alabaster +lay a dimly visible form in marble, but whether of man or woman I could not yet +tell. I worked on as rapidly as the necessary care would permit; and when I had +uncovered the whole mass, and rising from my knees, had retreated a little way, +so that the effect of the whole might fall on me, I saw before me with +sufficient plainness—though at the same time with considerable +indistinctness, arising from the limited amount of light the place admitted, as +well as from the nature of the object itself—a block of pure alabaster +enclosing the form, apparently in marble, of a reposing woman. She lay on one +side, with her hand under her cheek, and her face towards me; but her hair had +fallen partly over her face, so that I could not see the expression of the +whole. What I did see appeared to me perfectly lovely; more near the face that +had been born with me in my soul, than anything I had seen before in nature or +art. The actual outlines of the rest of the form were so indistinct, that the +more than semi-opacity of the alabaster seemed insufficient to account for the +fact; and I conjectured that a light robe added its obscurity. Numberless +histories passed through my mind of change of substance from enchantment and +other causes, and of imprisonments such as this before me. I thought of the +Prince of the Enchanted City, half marble and half a man; of Ariel; of Niobe; +of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood; of the bleeding trees; and many other +histories. Even my adventure of the preceding evening with the lady of the +beech-tree contributed to arouse the wild hope, that by some means life might +be given to this form also, and that, breaking from her alabaster tomb, she +might glorify my eyes with her presence. “For,” I argued, +“who can tell but this cave may be the home of Marble, and this, +essential Marble—that spirit of marble which, present throughout, makes +it capable of being moulded into any form? Then if she should awake! But how to +awake her? A kiss awoke the Sleeping Beauty! a kiss cannot reach her through +the incrusting alabaster.” I kneeled, however, and kissed the pale +coffin; but she slept on. I bethought me of Orpheus, and the following +stones—that trees should follow his music seemed nothing surprising now. +Might not a song awake this form, that the glory of motion might for a time +displace the loveliness of rest? Sweet sounds can go where kisses may not +enter. I sat and thought. Now, although always delighting in music, I had never +been gifted with the power of song, until I entered the fairy forest. I had a +voice, and I had a true sense of sound; but when I tried to sing, the one would +not content the other, and so I remained silent. This morning, however, I had +found myself, ere I was aware, rejoicing in a song; but whether it was before +or after I had eaten of the fruits of the forest, I could not satisfy myself. I +concluded it was after, however; and that the increased impulse to sing I now +felt, was in part owing to having drunk of the little well, which shone like a +brilliant eye in a corner of the cave. I sat down on the ground by the +“antenatal tomb,” leaned upon it with my face towards the head of +the figure within, and sang—the words and tones coming together, and +inseparably connected, as if word and tone formed one thing; or, as if each +word could be uttered only in that tone, and was incapable of distinction from +it, except in idea, by an acute analysis. I sang something like this: but the +words are only a dull representation of a state whose very elevation precluded +the possibility of remembrance; and in which I presume the words really +employed were as far above these, as that state transcended this wherein I +recall it: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Marble woman, vainly sleeping<br/> +In the very death of dreams!<br/> +Wilt thou—slumber from thee sweeping,<br/> +All but what with vision teems—<br/> +Hear my voice come through the golden<br/> +Mist of memory and hope;<br/> +And with shadowy smile embolden<br/> +Me with primal Death to cope?<br/> +<br/> +“Thee the sculptors all pursuing,<br/> +Have embodied but their own;<br/> +Round their visions, form enduring,<br/> +Marble vestments thou hast thrown;<br/> +But thyself, in silence winding,<br/> +Thou hast kept eternally;<br/> +Thee they found not, many finding—<br/> +I have found thee: wake for me.” +</p> + +<p> +As I sang, I looked earnestly at the face so vaguely revealed before me. I +fancied, yet believed it to be but fancy, that through the dim veil of the +alabaster, I saw a motion of the head as if caused by a sinking sigh. I gazed +more earnestly, and concluded that it was but fancy. Neverthless I could not +help singing again— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Rest is now filled full of beauty,<br/> +And can give thee up, I ween;<br/> +Come thou forth, for other duty<br/> +Motion pineth for her queen.<br/> +<br/> +“Or, if needing years to wake thee<br/> +From thy slumbrous solitudes,<br/> +Come, sleep-walking, and betake thee<br/> +To the friendly, sleeping woods.<br/> +<br/> +Sweeter dreams are in the forest,<br/> +Round thee storms would never rave;<br/> +And when need of rest is sorest,<br/> +Glide thou then into thy cave.<br/> +<br/> +“Or, if still thou choosest rather<br/> +Marble, be its spell on me;<br/> +Let thy slumber round me gather,<br/> +Let another dream with thee!” +</p> + +<p> +Again I paused, and gazed through the stony shroud, as if, by very force of +penetrative sight, I would clear every lineament of the lovely face. And now I +thought the hand that had lain under the cheek, had slipped a little downward. +But then I could not be sure that I had at first observed its position +accurately. So I sang again; for the longing had grown into a passionate need +of seeing her alive— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Or art thou Death, O woman? for since I<br/> + Have set me singing by thy side,<br/> +Life hath forsook the upper sky,<br/> + And all the outer world hath died.<br/> +<br/> +“Yea, I am dead; for thou hast drawn<br/> + My life all downward unto thee.<br/> +Dead moon of love! let twilight dawn:<br/> + Awake! and let the darkness flee.<br/> +<br/> +“Cold lady of the lovely stone!<br/> + Awake! or I shall perish here;<br/> +And thou be never more alone,<br/> + My form and I for ages near.<br/> +<br/> +“But words are vain; reject them all—<br/> + They utter but a feeble part:<br/> +Hear thou the depths from which they call,<br/> + The voiceless longing of my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +There arose a slightly crashing sound. Like a sudden apparition that comes and +is gone, a white form, veiled in a light robe of whiteness, burst upwards from +the stone, stood, glided forth, and gleamed away towards the woods. For I +followed to the mouth of the cave, as soon as the amazement and concentration +of delight permitted the nerves of motion again to act; and saw the white form +amidst the trees, as it crossed a little glade on the edge of the forest where +the sunlight fell full, seeming to gather with intenser radiance on the one +object that floated rather than flitted through its lake of beams. I gazed +after her in a kind of despair; found, freed, lost! It seemed useless to +follow, yet follow I must. I marked the direction she took; and without once +looking round to the forsaken cave, I hastened towards the forest. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ah, let a man beware, when his wishes, fulfilled, rain down<br/> +upon him, and his happiness is unbounded.”<br/> + —F<small>OUQUÉ</small>, <i>Der Zauberring</i>.<br/> +<br/> +“Thy red lips, like worms,<br/> +Travel over my cheek.”<br/> + —M<small>OTHERWELL</small>. +</p> + +<p> +But as I crossed the space between the foot of the hill and the forest, a +vision of another kind delayed my steps. Through an opening to the westward +flowed, like a stream, the rays of the setting sun, and overflowed with a ruddy +splendour the open space where I was. And riding as it were down this stream +towards me, came a horseman in what appeared red armour. From frontlet to tail, +the horse likewise shone red in the sunset. I felt as if I must have seen the +knight before; but as he drew near, I could recall no feature of his +countenance. Ere he came up to me, however, I remembered the legend of Sir +Percival in the rusty armour, which I had left unfinished in the old book in +the cottage: it was of Sir Percival that he reminded me. And no wonder; for +when he came close up to me, I saw that, from crest to heel, the whole surface +of his armour was covered with a light rust. The golden spurs shone, but the +iron greaves glowed in the sunlight. The <i>morning star</i>, which hung from +his wrist, glittered and glowed with its silver and bronze. His whole +appearance was terrible; but his face did not answer to this appearance. It was +sad, even to gloominess; and something of shame seemed to cover it. Yet it was +noble and high, though thus beclouded; and the form looked lofty, although the +head drooped, and the whole frame was bowed as with an inward grief. The horse +seemed to share in his master’s dejection, and walked spiritless and +slow. I noticed, too, that the white plume on his helmet was discoloured and +drooping. “He has fallen in a joust with spears,” I said to myself; +“yet it becomes not a noble knight to be conquered in spirit because his +body hath fallen.” He appeared not to observe me, for he was riding past +without looking up, and started into a warlike attitude the moment the first +sound of my voice reached him. Then a flush, as of shame, covered all of his +face that the lifted beaver disclosed. He returned my greeting with distant +courtesy, and passed on. But suddenly, he reined up, sat a moment still, and +then turning his horse, rode back to where I stood looking after him. +</p> + +<p> +“I am ashamed,” he said, “to appear a knight, and in such a +guise; but it behoves me to tell you to take warning from me, lest the same +evil, in his kind, overtake the singer that has befallen the knight. Hast thou +ever read the story of Sir Percival and the”—(here he shuddered, +that his armour rang)—“Maiden of the Alder-tree?” +</p> + +<p> +“In part, I have,” said I; “for yesterday, at the entrance of +this forest, I found in a cottage the volume wherein it is recorded.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then take heed,” he rejoined; “for, see my armour—I +put it off; and as it befell to him, so has it befallen to me. I that was proud +am humble now. Yet is she terribly beautiful—beware. Never,” he +added, raising his head, “shall this armour be furbished, but by the +blows of knightly encounter, until the last speck has disappeared from every +spot where the battle-axe and sword of evil-doers, or noble foes, might fall; +when I shall again lift my head, and say to my squire, ‘Do thy duty once +more, and make this armour shine.’” +</p> + +<p> +Before I could inquire further, he had struck spurs into his horse and galloped +away, shrouded from my voice in the noise of his armour. For I called after +him, anxious to know more about this fearful enchantress; but in vain—he +heard me not. “Yet,” I said to myself, “I have now been often +warned; surely I shall be well on my guard; and I am fully resolved I shall not +be ensnared by any beauty, however beautiful. Doubtless, some one man may +escape, and I shall be he.” So I went on into the wood, still hoping to +find, in some one of its mysterious recesses, my lost lady of the marble. The +sunny afternoon died into the loveliest twilight. Great bats began to flit +about with their own noiseless flight, seemingly purposeless, because its +objects are unseen. The monotonous music of the owl issued from all unexpected +quarters in the half-darkness around me. The glow-worm was alight here and +there, burning out into the great universe. The night-hawk heightened all the +harmony and stillness with his oft-recurring, discordant jar. Numberless +unknown sounds came out of the unknown dusk; but all were of twilight-kind, +oppressing the heart as with a condensed atmosphere of dreamy undefined love +and longing. The odours of night arose, and bathed me in that luxurious +mournfulness peculiar to them, as if the plants whence they floated had been +watered with bygone tears. Earth drew me towards her bosom; I felt as if I +could fall down and kiss her. I forgot I was in Fairy Land, and seemed to be +walking in a perfect night of our own old nursing earth. Great stems rose about +me, uplifting a thick multitudinous roof above me of branches, and twigs, and +leaves—the bird and insect world uplifted over mine, with its own +landscapes, its own thickets, and paths, and glades, and dwellings; its own +bird-ways and insect-delights. Great boughs crossed my path; great roots based +the tree-columns, and mightily clasped the earth, strong to lift and strong to +uphold. It seemed an old, old forest, perfect in forest ways and pleasures. And +when, in the midst of this ecstacy, I remembered that under some close canopy +of leaves, by some giant stem, or in some mossy cave, or beside some leafy +well, sat the lady of the marble, whom my songs had called forth into the outer +world, waiting (might it not be?) to meet and thank her deliverer in a twilight +which would veil her confusion, the whole night became one dream-realm of joy, +the central form of which was everywhere present, although unbeheld. Then, +remembering how my songs seemed to have called her from the marble, piercing +through the pearly shroud of alabaster—“Why,” thought I, +“should not my voice reach her now, through the ebon night that inwraps +her.” My voice burst into song so spontaneously that it seemed +involuntarily. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Not a sound<br/> +But, echoing in me,<br/> +Vibrates all around<br/> +With a blind delight,<br/> +Till it breaks on Thee,<br/> +Queen of Night!<br/> +<br/> +Every tree,<br/> +O’ershadowing with gloom,<br/> +Seems to cover thee<br/> +Secret, dark, love-still’d,<br/> +In a holy room<br/> +Silence-filled.<br/> +<br/> +“Let no moon<br/> +Creep up the heaven to-night;<br/> +I in darksome noon<br/> +Walking hopefully,<br/> +Seek my shrouded light—<br/> +Grope for thee!<br/> +<br/> +“Darker grow<br/> +The borders of the dark!<br/> +Through the branches glow,<br/> +From the roof above,<br/> +Star and diamond-sparks<br/> +Light for love.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had the last sounds floated away from the hearing of my own ears, when +I heard instead a low delicious laugh near me. It was not the laugh of one who +would not be heard, but the laugh of one who has just received something long +and patiently desired—a laugh that ends in a low musical moan. I started, +and, turning sideways, saw a dim white figure seated beside an intertwining +thicket of smaller trees and underwood. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my white lady!” I said, and flung myself on the ground +beside her; striving, through the gathering darkness, to get a glimpse of the +form which had broken its marble prison at my call. +</p> + +<p> +“It is your white lady!” said the sweetest voice, in reply, sending +a thrill of speechless delight through a heart which all the love-charms of the +preceding day and evening had been tempering for this culminating hour. Yet, if +I would have confessed it, there was something either in the sound of the +voice, although it seemed sweetness itself, or else in this yielding which +awaited no gradation of gentle approaches, that did not vibrate harmoniously +with the beat of my inward music. And likewise, when, taking her hand in mine, +I drew closer to her, looking for the beauty of her face, which, indeed, I +found too plenteously, a cold shiver ran through me; but “it is the +marble,” I said to myself, and heeded it not. +</p> + +<p> +She withdrew her hand from mine, and after that would scarce allow me to touch +her. It seemed strange, after the fulness of her first greeting, that she could +not trust me to come close to her. Though her words were those of a lover, she +kept herself withdrawn as if a mile of space interposed between us. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you run away from me when you woke in the cave?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I?” she returned. “That was very unkind of me; but I did +not know better.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could see you. The night is very dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it is. Come to my grotto. There is light there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you another cave, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come and see.” +</p> + +<p> +But she did not move until I rose first, and then she was on her feet before I +could offer my hand to help her. She came close to my side, and conducted me +through the wood. But once or twice, when, involuntarily almost, I was about to +put my arm around her as we walked on through the warm gloom, she sprang away +several paces, always keeping her face full towards me, and then stood looking +at me, slightly stooping, in the attitude of one who fears some half-seen +enemy. It was too dark to discern the expression of her face. Then she would +return and walk close beside me again, as if nothing had happened. I thought +this strange; but, besides that I had almost, as I said before, given up the +attempt to account for appearances in Fairy Land, I judged that it would be +very unfair to expect from one who had slept so long and had been so suddenly +awakened, a behaviour correspondent to what I might unreflectingly look for. I +knew not what she might have been dreaming about. Besides, it was possible +that, while her words were free, her sense of touch might be exquisitely +delicate. +</p> + +<p> +At length, after walking a long way in the woods, we arrived at another +thicket, through the intertexture of which was glimmering a pale rosy light. +</p> + +<p> +“Push aside the branches,” she said, “and make room for us to +enter.” +</p> + +<p> +I did as she told me. +</p> + +<p> +“Go in,” she said; “I will follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +I did as she desired, and found myself in a little cave, not very unlike the +marble cave. It was festooned and draperied with all kinds of green that cling +to shady rocks. In the furthest corner, half-hidden in leaves, through which it +glowed, mingling lovely shadows between them, burned a bright rosy flame on a +little earthen lamp. The lady glided round by the wall from behind me, still +keeping her face towards me, and seated herself in the furthest corner, with +her back to the lamp, which she hid completely from my view. I then saw indeed +a form of perfect loveliness before me. Almost it seemed as if the light of the +rose-lamp shone through her (for it could not be reflected from her); such a +delicate shade of pink seemed to shadow what in itself must be a marbly +whiteness of hue. I discovered afterwards, however, that there was one thing in +it I did not like; which was, that the white part of the eye was tinged with +the same slight roseate hue as the rest of the form. It is strange that I +cannot recall her features; but they, as well as her somewhat girlish figure, +left on me simply and only the impression of intense loveliness. I lay down at +her feet, and gazed up into her face as I lay. She began, and told me a strange +tale, which, likewise, I cannot recollect; but which, at every turn and every +pause, somehow or other fixed my eyes and thoughts upon her extreme beauty; +seeming always to culminate in something that had a relation, revealed or +hidden, but always operative, with her own loveliness. I lay entranced. It was +a tale which brings back a feeling as of snows and tempests; torrents and +water-sprites; lovers parted for long, and meeting at last; with a gorgeous +summer night to close up the whole. I listened till she and I were blended with +the tale; till she and I were the whole history. And we had met at last in this +same cave of greenery, while the summer night hung round us heavy with love, +and the odours that crept through the silence from the sleeping woods were the +only signs of an outer world that invaded our solitude. What followed I cannot +clearly remember. The succeeding horror almost obliterated it. I woke as a grey +dawn stole into the cave. The damsel had disappeared; but in the shrubbery, at +the mouth of the cave, stood a strange horrible object. It looked like an open +coffin set up on one end; only that the part for the head and neck was defined +from the shoulder-part. In fact, it was a rough representation of the human +frame, only hollow, as if made of decaying bark torn from a tree. +</p> + +<p> +It had arms, which were only slightly seamed, down from the shoulder-blade by +the elbow, as if the bark had healed again from the cut of a knife. But the +arms moved, and the hand and the fingers were tearing asunder a long silky +tress of hair. The thing turned round—it had for a face and front those +of my enchantress, but now of a pale greenish hue in the light of the morning, +and with dead lustreless eyes. In the horror of the moment, another fear +invaded me. I put my hand to my waist, and found indeed that my girdle of +beech-leaves was gone. Hair again in her hands, she was tearing it fiercely. +Once more, as she turned, she laughed a low laugh, but now full of scorn and +derision; and then she said, as if to a companion with whom she had been +talking while I slept, “There he is; you can take him now.” I lay +still, petrified with dismay and fear; for I now saw another figure beside her, +which, although vague and indistinct, I yet recognised but too well. It was the +Ash-tree. My beauty was the Maid of the Alder! and she was giving me, spoiled +of my only availing defence, into the hands of my awful foe. The Ash bent his +Gorgon-head, and entered the cave. I could not stir. He drew near me. His +ghoul-eyes and his ghastly face fascinated me. He came stooping, with the +hideous hand outstretched, like a beast of prey. I had given myself up to a +death of unfathomable horror, when, suddenly, and just as he was on the point +of seizing me, the dull, heavy blow of an axe echoed through the wood, followed +by others in quick repetition. The Ash shuddered and groaned, withdrew the +outstretched hand, retreated backwards to the mouth of the cave, then turned +and disappeared amongst the trees. The other walking Death looked at me once, +with a careless dislike on her beautifully moulded features; then, heedless any +more to conceal her hollow deformity, turned her frightful back and likewise +vanished amid the green obscurity without. I lay and wept. The Maid of the +Alder-tree had befooled me—nearly slain me—in spite of all the +warnings I had received from those who knew my danger. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew sayes,<br/> + A little I am hurt, but yett not slaine;<br/> +I’le but lye downe and bleede awhile,<br/> + And then I’le rise and fight againe.”<br/> + B<small>ALLAD</small> <i>of Sir Andrew Barton</i>. +</p> + +<p> +But I could not remain where I was any longer, though the daylight was hateful +to me, and the thought of the great, innocent, bold sunrise unendurable. Here +there was no well to cool my face, smarting with the bitterness of my own +tears. Nor would I have washed in the well of that grotto, had it flowed clear +as the rivers of Paradise. I rose, and feebly left the sepulchral cave. I took +my way I knew not whither, but still towards the sunrise. The birds were +singing; but not for me. All the creatures spoke a language of their own, with +which I had nothing to do, and to which I cared not to find the key any more. +</p> + +<p> +I walked listlessly along. What distressed me most—more even than my own +folly—was the perplexing question, How can beauty and ugliness dwell so +near? Even with her altered complexion and her face of dislike; disenchanted of +the belief that clung around her; known for a living, walking sepulchre, +faithless, deluding, traitorous; I felt notwithstanding all this, that she was +beautiful. Upon this I pondered with undiminished perplexity, though not +without some gain. Then I began to make surmises as to the mode of my +deliverance; and concluded that some hero, wandering in search of adventure, +had heard how the forest was infested; and, knowing it was useless to attack +the evil thing in person, had assailed with his battle-axe the body in which he +dwelt, and on which he was dependent for his power of mischief in the wood. +“Very likely,” I thought, “the repentant-knight, who warned +me of the evil which has befallen me, was busy retrieving his lost honour, +while I was sinking into the same sorrow with himself; and, hearing of the +dangerous and mysterious being, arrived at his tree in time to save me from +being dragged to its roots, and buried like carrion, to nourish him for yet +deeper insatiableness.” I found afterwards that my conjecture was +correct. I wondered how he had fared when his blows recalled the Ash himself, +and that too I learned afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +I walked on the whole day, with intervals of rest, but without food; for I +could not have eaten, had any been offered me; till, in the afternoon, I seemed +to approach the outskirts of the forest, and at length arrived at a farm-house. +An unspeakable joy arose in my heart at beholding an abode of human beings once +more, and I hastened up to the door, and knocked. A kind-looking, matronly +woman, still handsome, made her appearance; who, as soon as she saw me, said +kindly, “Ah, my poor boy, you have come from the wood! Were you in it +last night?” +</p> + +<p> +I should have ill endured, the day before, to be called <i>boy</i>; but now the +motherly kindness of the word went to my heart; and, like a boy indeed, I burst +into tears. She soothed me right gently; and, leading me into a room, made me +lie down on a settle, while she went to find me some refreshment. She soon +returned with food, but I could not eat. She almost compelled me to swallow +some wine, when I revived sufficiently to be able to answer some of her +questions. I told her the whole story. +</p> + +<p> +“It is just as I feared,” she said; “but you are now for the +night beyond the reach of any of these dreadful creatures. It is no wonder they +could delude a child like you. But I must beg you, when my husband comes in, +not to say a word about these things; for he thinks me even half crazy for +believing anything of the sort. But I must believe my senses, as he cannot +believe beyond his, which give him no intimations of this kind. I think he +could spend the whole of Midsummer-eve in the wood and come back with the +report that he saw nothing worse than himself. Indeed, good man, he would +hardly find anything better than himself, if he had seven more senses given +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me how it is that she could be so beautiful without any heart +at all—without any place even for a heart to live in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot quite tell,” she said; “but I am sure she would not +look so beautiful if she did not take means to make herself look more beautiful +than she is. And then, you know, you began by being in love with her before you +saw her beauty, mistaking her for the lady of the marble—another kind +altogether, I should think. But the chief thing that makes her beautiful is +this: that, although she loves no man, she loves the love of any man; and when +she finds one in her power, her desire to bewitch him and gain his love (not +for the sake of his love either, but that she may be conscious anew of her own +beauty, through the admiration he manifests), makes her very lovely—with +a self-destructive beauty, though; for it is that which is constantly wearing +her away within, till, at last, the decay will reach her face, and her whole +front, when all the lovely mask of nothing will fall to pieces, and she be +vanished for ever. So a wise man, whom she met in the wood some years ago, and +who, I think, for all his wisdom, fared no better than you, told me, when, like +you, he spent the next night here, and recounted to me his adventures.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked her very warmly for her solution, though it was but partial; +wondering much that in her, as in woman I met on my first entering the forest, +there should be such superiority to her apparent condition. Here she left me to +take some rest; though, indeed, I was too much agitated to rest in any other +way than by simply ceasing to move. +</p> + +<p> +In half an hour, I heard a heavy step approach and enter the house. A jolly +voice, whose slight huskiness appeared to proceed from overmuch laughter, +called out “Betsy, the pigs’ trough is quite empty, and that is a +pity. Let them swill, lass! They’re of no use but to get fat. Ha! ha! ha! +Gluttony is not forbidden in their commandments. Ha! ha! ha!” The very +voice, kind and jovial, seemed to disrobe the room of the strange look which +all new places wear—to disenchant it out of the realm of the ideal into +that of the actual. It began to look as if I had known every corner of it for +twenty years; and when, soon after, the dame came and fetched me to partake of +their early supper, the grasp of his great hand, and the harvest-moon of his +benevolent face, which was needed to light up the rotundity of the globe +beneath it, produced such a reaction in me, that, for a moment, I could hardly +believe that there was a Fairy Land; and that all I had passed through since I +left home, had not been the wandering dream of a diseased imagination, +operating on a too mobile frame, not merely causing me indeed to travel, but +peopling for me with vague phantoms the regions through which my actual steps +had led me. But the next moment my eye fell upon a little girl who was sitting +in the chimney-corner, with a little book open on her knee, from which she had +apparently just looked up to fix great inquiring eyes upon me. I believed in +Fairy Land again. She went on with her reading, as soon as she saw that I +observed her looking at me. I went near, and peeping over her shoulder, saw +that she was reading <i>The History of Graciosa and Percinet</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Very improving book, sir,” remarked the old farmer, with a +good-humoured laugh. “We are in the very hottest corner of Fairy Land +here. Ha! ha! Stormy night, last night, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it, indeed?” I rejoined. “It was not so with me. A +lovelier night I never saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! Where were you last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I spent it in the forest. I had lost my way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! then, perhaps, you will be able to convince my good woman, that +there is nothing very remarkable about the forest; for, to tell the truth, it +bears but a bad name in these parts. I dare say you saw nothing worse than +yourself there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope I did,” was my inward reply; but, for an audible one, I +contented myself with saying, “Why, I certainly did see some appearances +I could hardly account for; but that is nothing to be wondered at in an unknown +wild forest, and with the uncertain light of the moon alone to go by.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very true! you speak like a sensible man, sir. We have but few sensible +folks round about us. Now, you would hardly credit it, but my wife believes +every fairy-tale that ever was written. I cannot account for it. She is a most +sensible woman in everything else.” +</p> + +<p> +“But should not that make you treat her belief with something of respect, +though you cannot share in it yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is all very well in theory; but when you come to live every +day in the midst of absurdity, it is far less easy to behave respectfully to +it. Why, my wife actually believes the story of the ‘White Cat.’ +You know it, I dare say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I read all these tales when a child, and know that one especially +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, father,” interposed the little girl in the chimney-corner, +“you know quite well that mother is descended from that very princess who +was changed by the wicked fairy into a white cat. Mother has told me so a many +times, and you ought to believe everything she says.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can easily believe that,” rejoined the farmer, with another fit +of laughter; “for, the other night, a mouse came gnawing and scratching +beneath the floor, and would not let us go to sleep. Your mother sprang out of +bed, and going as near it as she could, mewed so infernally like a great cat, +that the noise ceased instantly. I believe the poor mouse died of the fright, +for we have never heard it again. Ha! ha! ha!” +</p> + +<p> +The son, an ill-looking youth, who had entered during the conversation, joined +in his father’s laugh; but his laugh was very different from the old +man’s: it was polluted with a sneer. I watched him, and saw that, as soon +as it was over, he looked scared, as if he dreaded some evil consequences to +follow his presumption. The woman stood near, waiting till we should seat +ourselves at the table, and listening to it all with an amused air, which had +something in it of the look with which one listens to the sententious remarks +of a pompous child. We sat down to supper, and I ate heartily. My bygone +distresses began already to look far off. +</p> + +<p> +“In what direction are you going?” asked the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Eastward,” I replied; nor could I have given a more definite +answer. “Does the forest extend much further in that direction?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! for miles and miles; I do not know how far. For although I have +lived on the borders of it all my life, I have been too busy to make journeys +of discovery into it. Nor do I see what I could discover. It is only trees and +trees, till one is sick of them. By the way, if you follow the eastward track +from here, you will pass close to what the children say is the very house of +the ogre that Hop-o’-my-Thumb visited, and ate his little daughters with +the crowns of gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, father! ate his little daughters! No; he only changed their gold +crowns for nightcaps; and the great long-toothed ogre killed them in mistake; +but I do not think even he ate them, for you know they were his own little +ogresses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, child; you know all about it a great deal better than I do. +However, the house has, of course, in such a foolish neighbourhood as this, a +bad enough name; and I must confess there is a woman living in it, with teeth +long enough, and white enough too, for the lineal descendant of the greatest +ogre that ever was made. I think you had better not go near her.” +</p> + +<p> +In such talk as this the night wore on. When supper was finished, which lasted +some time, my hostess conducted me to my chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“If you had not had enough of it already,” she said, “I would +have put you in another room, which looks towards the forest; and where you +would most likely have seen something more of its inhabitants. For they +frequently pass the window, and even enter the room sometimes. Strange +creatures spend whole nights in it, at certain seasons of the year. I am used +to it, and do not mind it. No more does my little girl, who sleeps in it +always. But this room looks southward towards the open country, and they never +show themselves here; at least I never saw any.” +</p> + +<p> +I was somewhat sorry not to gather any experience that I might have, of the +inhabitants of Fairy Land; but the effect of the farmer’s company, and of +my own later adventures, was such, that I chose rather an undisturbed night in +my more human quarters; which, with their clean white curtains and white linen, +were very inviting to my weariness. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning I awoke refreshed, after a profound and dreamless sleep. The sun +was high, when I looked out of the window, shining over a wide, undulating, +cultivated country. Various garden-vegetables were growing beneath my window. +Everything was radiant with clear sunlight. The dew-drops were sparkling their +busiest; the cows in a near-by field were eating as if they had not been at it +all day yesterday; the maids were singing at their work as they passed to and +fro between the out-houses: I did not believe in Fairy Land. I went down, and +found the family already at breakfast. But before I entered the room where they +sat, the little girl came to me, and looked up in my face, as though she wanted +to say something to me. I stooped towards her; she put her arms round my neck, +and her mouth to my ear, and whispered— +</p> + +<p> +“A white lady has been flitting about the house all night.” +</p> + +<p> +“No whispering behind doors!” cried the farmer; and we entered +together. “Well, how have you slept? No bogies, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not one, thank you; I slept uncommonly well.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to hear it. Come and breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, the farmer and his son went out; and I was left alone with the +mother and daughter. +</p> + +<p> +“When I looked out of the window this morning,” I said, “I +felt almost certain that Fairy Land was all a delusion of my brain; but +whenever I come near you or your little daughter, I feel differently. Yet I +could persuade myself, after my last adventures, to go back, and have nothing +more to do with such strange beings.” +</p> + +<p> +“How will you go back?” said the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, that I do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have heard, that, for those who enter Fairy Land, there is no +way of going back. They must go on, and go through it. How, I do not in the +least know.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is quite the impression on my own mind. Something compels me to go +on, as if my only path was onward, but I feel less inclined this morning to +continue my adventures.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come and see my little child’s room? She sleeps in the +one I told you of, looking towards the forest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +So we went together, the little girl running before to open the door for us. It +was a large room, full of old-fashioned furniture, that seemed to have once +belonged to some great house. +</p> + +<p> +The window was built with a low arch, and filled with lozenge-shaped panes. The +wall was very thick, and built of solid stone. I could see that part of the +house had been erected against the remains of some old castle or abbey, or +other great building; the fallen stones of which had probably served to +complete it. But as soon as I looked out of the window, a gush of wonderment +and longing flowed over my soul like the tide of a great sea. Fairy Land lay +before me, and drew me towards it with an irresistible attraction. The trees +bathed their great heads in the waves of the morning, while their roots were +planted deep in gloom; save where on the borders the sunshine broke against +their stems, or swept in long streams through their avenues, washing with +brighter hue all the leaves over which it flowed; revealing the rich brown of +the decayed leaves and fallen pine-cones, and the delicate greens of the long +grasses and tiny forests of moss that covered the channel over which it passed +in motionless rivers of light. I turned hurriedly to bid my hostess farewell +without further delay. She smiled at my haste, but with an anxious look. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better not go near the house of the ogre, I think. My son will +show you into another path, which will join the first beyond it.” +</p> + +<p> +Not wishing to be headstrong or too confident any more, I agreed; and having +taken leave of my kind entertainers, went into the wood, accompanied by the +youth. He scarcely spoke as we went along; but he led me through the trees till +we struck upon a path. He told me to follow it, and, with a muttered +“good morning” left me. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“I am a part of the part, which at first was the whole.”<br/> + G<small>OETHE</small>.—<i>Mephistopheles in Faust</i>. +</p> + +<p> +My spirits rose as I went deeper; into the forest; but I could not regain my +former elasticity of mind. I found cheerfulness to be like life +itself—not to be created by any argument. Afterwards I learned, that the +best way to manage some kinds of pain filled thoughts, is to dare them to do +their worst; to let them lie and gnaw at your heart till they are tired; and +you find you still have a residue of life they cannot kill. So, better and +worse, I went on, till I came to a little clearing in the forest. In the middle +of this clearing stood a long, low hut, built with one end against a single +tall cypress, which rose like a spire to the building. A vague misgiving +crossed my mind when I saw it; but I must needs go closer, and look through a +little half-open door, near the opposite end from the cypress. Window I saw +none. On peeping in, and looking towards the further end, I saw a lamp burning, +with a dim, reddish flame, and the head of a woman, bent downwards, as if +reading by its light. I could see nothing more for a few moments. At length, as +my eyes got used to the dimness of the place, I saw that the part of the rude +building near me was used for household purposes; for several rough utensils +lay here and there, and a bed stood in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +An irresistible attraction caused me to enter. The woman never raised her face, +the upper part of which alone I could see distinctly; but, as soon as I stepped +within the threshold, she began to read aloud, in a low and not altogether +unpleasing voice, from an ancient little volume which she held open with one +hand on the table upon which stood the lamp. What she read was something like +this: +</p> + +<p> +“So, then, as darkness had no beginning, neither will it ever have an +end. So, then, is it eternal. The negation of aught else, is its affirmation. +Where the light cannot come, there abideth the darkness. The light doth but +hollow a mine out of the infinite extension of the darkness. And ever upon the +steps of the light treadeth the darkness; yea, springeth in fountains and wells +amidst it, from the secret channels of its mighty sea. Truly, man is but a +passing flame, moving unquietly amid the surrounding rest of night; without +which he yet could not be, and whereof he is in part compounded.” +</p> + +<p> +As I drew nearer, and she read on, she moved a little to turn a leaf of the +dark old volume, and I saw that her face was sallow and slightly forbidding. +Her forehead was high, and her black eyes repressedly quiet. But she took no +notice of me. This end of the cottage, if cottage it could be called, was +destitute of furniture, except the table with the lamp, and the chair on which +the woman sat. In one corner was a door, apparently of a cupboard in the wall, +but which might lead to a room beyond. Still the irresistible desire which had +made me enter the building urged me: I must open that door, and see what was +beyond it. I approached, and laid my hand on the rude latch. Then the woman +spoke, but without lifting her head or looking at me: “You had better not +open that door.” This was uttered quite quietly; and she went on with her +reading, partly in silence, partly aloud; but both modes seemed equally +intended for herself alone. The prohibition, however, only increased my desire +to see; and as she took no further notice, I gently opened the door to its full +width, and looked in. At first, I saw nothing worthy of attention. It seemed a +common closet, with shelves on each hand, on which stood various little +necessaries for the humble uses of a cottage. In one corner stood one or two +brooms, in another a hatchet and other common tools; showing that it was in use +every hour of the day for household purposes. But, as I looked, I saw that +there were no shelves at the back, and that an empty space went in further; its +termination appearing to be a faintly glimmering wall or curtain, somewhat +less, however, than the width and height of the doorway where I stood. But, as +I continued looking, for a few seconds, towards this faintly luminous limit, my +eyes came into true relation with their object. All at once, with such a shiver +as when one is suddenly conscious of the presence of another in a room where he +has, for hours, considered himself alone, I saw that the seemingly luminous +extremity was a sky, as of night, beheld through the long perspective of a +narrow, dark passage, through what, or built of what, I could not tell. As I +gazed, I clearly discerned two or three stars glimmering faintly in the distant +blue. But, suddenly, and as if it had been running fast from a far distance for +this very point, and had turned the corner without abating its swiftness, a +dark figure sped into and along the passage from the blue opening at the remote +end. I started back and shuddered, but kept looking, for I could not help it. +On and on it came, with a speedy approach but delayed arrival; till, at last, +through the many gradations of approach, it seemed to come within the sphere of +myself, rushed up to me, and passed me into the cottage. All I could tell of +its appearance was, that it seemed to be a dark human figure. Its motion was +entirely noiseless, and might be called a gliding, were it not that it appeared +that of a runner, but with ghostly feet. I had moved back yet a little to let +him pass me, and looked round after him instantly. I could not see him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he?” I said, in some alarm, to the woman, who still sat +reading. +</p> + +<p> +“There, on the floor, behind you,” she said, pointing with her arm +half-outstretched, but not lifting her eyes. I turned and looked, but saw +nothing. Then with a feeling that there was yet something behind me, I looked +round over my shoulder; and there, on the ground, lay a black shadow, the size +of a man. It was so dark, that I could see it in the dim light of the lamp, +which shone full upon it, apparently without thinning at all the intensity of +its hue. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you,” said the woman, “you had better not look into +that closet.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” I said, with a growing sense of horror. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only your shadow that has found you,” she replied. +“Everybody’s shadow is ranging up and down looking for him. I +believe you call it by a different name in your world: yours has found you, as +every person’s is almost certain to do who looks into that closet, +especially after meeting one in the forest, whom I dare say you have +met.” +</p> + +<p> +Here, for the first time, she lifted her head, and looked full at me: her mouth +was full of long, white, shining teeth; and I knew that I was in the house of +the ogre. I could not speak, but turned and left the house, with the shadow at +my heels. “A nice sort of valet to have,” I said to myself +bitterly, as I stepped into the sunshine, and, looking over my shoulder, saw +that it lay yet blacker in the full blaze of the sunlight. Indeed, only when I +stood between it and the sun, was the blackness at all diminished. I was so +bewildered—stunned—both by the event itself and its suddenness, +that I could not at all realise to myself what it would be to have such a +constant and strange attendance; but with a dim conviction that my present +dislike would soon grow to loathing, I took my dreary way through the wood. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“O lady! we receive but what we give,<br/> +And in our life alone does nature live:<br/> +Ours is her wedding garments ours her shroud!<br/> +. . . . .<br/> + Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth,<br/> +A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud,<br/> + Enveloping the Earth—<br/> +And from the soul itself must there be sent<br/> + A sweet and potent voice of its own birth,<br/> +Of all sweet sounds the life and element!”<br/> + C<small>OLERIDGE</small>. +</p> + +<p> +From this time, until I arrived at the palace of Fairy Land, I can attempt no +consecutive account of my wanderings and adventures. Everything, henceforward, +existed for me in its relation to my attendant. What influence he exercised +upon everything into contact with which I was brought, may be understood from a +few detached instances. To begin with this very day on which he first joined +me: after I had walked heartlessly along for two or three hours, I was very +weary, and lay down to rest in a most delightful part of the forest, carpeted +with wild flowers. I lay for half an hour in a dull repose, and then got up to +pursue my way. The flowers on the spot where I had lain were crushed to the +earth: but I saw that they would soon lift their heads and rejoice again in the +sun and air. Not so those on which my shadow had lain. The very outline of it +could be traced in the withered lifeless grass, and the scorched and shrivelled +flowers which stood there, dead, and hopeless of any resurrection. I shuddered, +and hastened away with sad forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +In a few days, I had reason to dread an extension of its baleful influences +from the fact, that it was no longer confined to one position in regard to +myself. Hitherto, when seized with an irresistible desire to look on my evil +demon (which longing would unaccountably seize me at any moment, returning at +longer or shorter intervals, sometimes every minute), I had to turn my head +backwards, and look over my shoulder; in which position, as long as I could +retain it, I was fascinated. But one day, having come out on a clear grassy +hill, which commanded a glorious prospect, though of what I cannot now tell, my +shadow moved round, and came in front of me. And, presently, a new +manifestation increased my distress. For it began to coruscate, and shoot out +on all sides a radiation of dim shadow. These rays of gloom issued from the +central shadow as from a black sun, lengthening and shortening with continual +change. But wherever a ray struck, that part of earth, or sea, or sky, became +void, and desert, and sad to my heart. On this, the first development of its +new power, one ray shot out beyond the rest, seeming to lengthen infinitely, +until it smote the great sun on the face, which withered and darkened beneath +the blow. I turned away and went on. The shadow retreated to its former +position; and when I looked again, it had drawn in all its spears of darkness, +and followed like a dog at my heels. +</p> + +<p> +Once, as I passed by a cottage, there came out a lovely fairy child, with two +wondrous toys, one in each hand. The one was the tube through which the +fairy-gifted poet looks when he beholds the same thing everywhere; the other +that through which he looks when he combines into new forms of loveliness those +images of beauty which his own choice has gathered from all regions wherein he +has travelled. Round the child’s head was an aureole of emanating rays. +As I looked at him in wonder and delight, round crept from behind me the +something dark, and the child stood in my shadow. Straightway he was a +commonplace boy, with a rough broad-brimmed straw hat, through which brim the +sun shone from behind. The toys he carried were a multiplying-glass and a +kaleidoscope. I sighed and departed. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, as a great silent flood of western gold flowed through an avenue +in the woods, down the stream, just as when I saw him first, came the sad +knight, riding on his chestnut steed. +</p> + +<p> +But his armour did not shine half so red as when I saw him first. +</p> + +<p> +Many a blow of mighty sword and axe, turned aside by the strength of his mail, +and glancing adown the surface, had swept from its path the fretted rust, and +the glorious steel had answered the kindly blow with the thanks of returning +light. These streaks and spots made his armour look like the floor of a forest +in the sunlight. His forehead was higher than before, for the contracting +wrinkles were nearly gone; and the sadness that remained on his face was the +sadness of a dewy summer twilight, not that of a frosty autumn morn. He, too, +had met the Alder-maiden as I, but he had plunged into the torrent of mighty +deeds, and the stain was nearly washed away. No shadow followed him. He had not +entered the dark house; he had not had time to open the closet door. +“Will he ever look in?” I said to myself. “<i>Must</i> his +shadow find him some day?” But I could not answer my own questions. +</p> + +<p> +We travelled together for two days, and I began to love him. It was plain that +he suspected my story in some degree; and I saw him once or twice looking +curiously and anxiously at my attendant gloom, which all this time had remained +very obsequiously behind me; but I offered no explanation, and he asked none. +Shame at my neglect of his warning, and a horror which shrunk from even +alluding to its cause, kept me silent; till, on the evening of the second day, +some noble words from my companion roused all my heart; and I was at the point +of falling on his neck, and telling him the whole story; seeking, if not for +helpful advice, for of that I was hopeless, yet for the comfort of +sympathy—when round slid the shadow and inwrapt my friend; and I could +not trust him. +</p> + +<p> +The glory of his brow vanished; the light of his eye grew cold; and I held my +peace. The next morning we parted. +</p> + +<p> +But the most dreadful thing of all was, that I now began to feel something like +satisfaction in the presence of the shadow. I began to be rather vain of my +attendant, saying to myself, “In a land like this, with so many illusions +everywhere, I need his aid to disenchant the things around me. He does away +with all appearances, and shows me things in their true colour and form. And I +am not one to be fooled with the vanities of the common crowd. I will not see +beauty where there is none. I will dare to behold things as they are. And if I +live in a waste instead of a paradise, I will live knowing where I live.” +But of this a certain exercise of his power which soon followed quite cured me, +turning my feelings towards him once more into loathing and distrust. It was +thus: +</p> + +<p> +One bright noon, a little maiden joined me, coming through the wood in a +direction at right angles to my path. She came along singing and dancing, happy +as a child, though she seemed almost a woman. In her hands—now in one, +now in another—she carried a small globe, bright and clear as the purest +crystal. This seemed at once her plaything and her greatest treasure. At one +moment, you would have thought her utterly careless of it, and at another, +overwhelmed with anxiety for its safety. But I believe she was taking care of +it all the time, perhaps not least when least occupied about it. She stopped by +me with a smile, and bade me good day with the sweetest voice. I felt a +wonderful liking to the child—for she produced on me more the impression +of a child, though my understanding told me differently. We talked a little, +and then walked on together in the direction I had been pursuing. I asked her +about the globe she carried, but getting no definite answer, I held out my hand +to take it. She drew back, and said, but smiling almost invitingly the while, +“You must not touch it;”—then, after a moment’s +pause—“Or if you do, it must be very gently.” I touched it +with a finger. A slight vibratory motion arose in it, accompanied, or perhaps +manifested, by a faint sweet sound. I touched it again, and the sound +increased. I touched it the third time: a tiny torrent of harmony rolled out of +the little globe. She would not let me touch it any more. +</p> + +<p> +We travelled on together all that day. She left me when twilight came on; but +next day, at noon, she met me as before, and again we travelled till evening. +The third day she came once more at noon, and we walked on together. Now, +though we had talked about a great many things connected with Fairy Land, and +the life she had led hitherto, I had never been able to learn anything about +the globe. This day, however, as we went on, the shadow glided round and +inwrapt the maiden. It could not change her. But my desire to know about the +globe, which in his gloom began to waver as with an inward light, and to shoot +out flashes of many-coloured flame, grew irresistible. I put out both my hands +and laid hold of it. It began to sound as before. The sound rapidly increased, +till it grew a low tempest of harmony, and the globe trembled, and quivered, +and throbbed between my hands. I had not the heart to pull it away from the +maiden, though I held it in spite of her attempts to take it from me; yes, I +shame to say, in spite of her prayers, and, at last, her tears. The music went +on growing in, intensity and complication of tones, and the globe vibrated and +heaved; till at last it burst in our hands, and a black vapour broke upwards +from out of it; then turned, as if blown sideways, and enveloped the maiden, +hiding even the shadow in its blackness. She held fast the fragments, which I +abandoned, and fled from me into the forest in the direction whence she had +come, wailing like a child, and crying, “You have broken my globe; my +globe is broken—my globe is broken!” I followed her, in the hope of +comforting her; but had not pursued her far, before a sudden cold gust of wind +bowed the tree-tops above us, and swept through their stems around us; a great +cloud overspread the day, and a fierce tempest came on, in which I lost sight +of her. It lies heavy on my heart to this hour. At night, ere I fall asleep, +often, whatever I may be thinking about, I suddenly hear her voice, crying out, +“You have broken my globe; my globe is broken; ah, my globe!” +</p> + +<p> +Here I will mention one more strange thing; but whether this peculiarity was +owing to my shadow at all, I am not able to assure myself. I came to a village, +the inhabitants of which could not at first sight be distinguished from the +dwellers in our land. They rather avoided than sought my company, though they +were very pleasant when I addressed them. But at last I observed, that whenever +I came within a certain distance of any one of them, which distance, however, +varied with different individuals, the whole appearance of the person began to +change; and this change increased in degree as I approached. When I receded to +the former distance, the former appearance was restored. The nature of the +change was grotesque, following no fixed rule. The nearest resemblance to it +that I know, is the distortion produced in your countenance when you look at it +as reflected in a concave or convex surface—say, either side of a bright +spoon. Of this phenomenon I first became aware in rather a ludicrous way. My +host’s daughter was a very pleasant pretty girl, who made herself more +agreeable to me than most of those about me. For some days my companion-shadow +had been less obtrusive than usual; and such was the reaction of spirits +occasioned by the simple mitigation of torment, that, although I had cause +enough besides to be gloomy, I felt light and comparatively happy. My +impression is, that she was quite aware of the law of appearances that existed +between the people of the place and myself, and had resolved to amuse herself +at my expense; for one evening, after some jesting and raillery, she, somehow +or other, provoked me to attempt to kiss her. But she was well defended from +any assault of the kind. Her countenance became, of a sudden, absurdly hideous; +the pretty mouth was elongated and otherwise amplified sufficiently to have +allowed of six simultaneous kisses. I started back in bewildered dismay; she +burst into the merriest fit of laughter, and ran from the room. I soon found +that the same undefinable law of change operated between me and all the other +villagers; and that, to feel I was in pleasant company, it was absolutely +necessary for me to discover and observe the right focal distance between +myself and each one with whom I had to do. This done, all went pleasantly +enough. Whether, when I happened to neglect this precaution, I presented to +them an equally ridiculous appearance, I did not ascertain; but I presume that +the alteration was common to the approximating parties. I was likewise unable +to determine whether I was a necessary party to the production of this strange +transformation, or whether it took place as well, under the given +circumstances, between the inhabitants themselves. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“From Eden’s bowers the full-fed rivers flow,<br/> +To guide the outcasts to the land of woe:<br/> +Our Earth one little toiling streamlet yields.<br/> +To guide the wanderers to the happy fields.” +</p> + +<p> +After leaving this village, where I had rested for nearly a week, I travelled +through a desert region of dry sand and glittering rocks, peopled principally +by goblin-fairies. When I first entered their domains, and, indeed, whenever I +fell in with another tribe of them, they began mocking me with offered handfuls +of gold and jewels, making hideous grimaces at me, and performing the most +antic homage, as if they thought I expected reverence, and meant to humour me +like a maniac. But ever, as soon as one cast his eyes on the shadow behind me, +he made a wry face, partly of pity, partly of contempt, and looked ashamed, as +if he had been caught doing something inhuman; then, throwing down his handful +of gold, and ceasing all his grimaces, he stood aside to let me pass in peace, +and made signs to his companions to do the like. I had no inclination to +observe them much, for the shadow was in my heart as well as at my heels. I +walked listlessly and almost hopelessly along, till I arrived one day at a +small spring; which, bursting cool from the heart of a sun-heated rock, flowed +somewhat southwards from the direction I had been taking. I drank of this +spring, and found myself wonderfully refreshed. A kind of love to the cheerful +little stream arose in my heart. It was born in a desert; but it seemed to say +to itself, “I will flow, and sing, and lave my banks, till I make my +desert a paradise.” I thought I could not do better than follow it, and +see what it made of it. So down with the stream I went, over rocky lands, +burning with sunbeams. But the rivulet flowed not far, before a few blades of +grass appeared on its banks, and then, here and there, a stunted bush. +Sometimes it disappeared altogether under ground; and after I had wandered some +distance, as near as I could guess, in the direction it seemed to take, I would +suddenly hear it again, singing, sometimes far away to my right or left, +amongst new rocks, over which it made new cataracts of watery melodies. The +verdure on its banks increased as it flowed; other streams joined it; and at +last, after many days’ travel, I found myself, one gorgeous summer +evening, resting by the side of a broad river, with a glorious horse-chestnut +tree towering above me, and dropping its blossoms, milk-white and rosy-red, all +about me. As I sat, a gush of joy sprang forth in my heart, and over flowed at +my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Through my tears, the whole landscape glimmered in such bewildering loveliness, +that I felt as if I were entering Fairy Land for the first time, and some +loving hand were waiting to cool my head, and a loving word to warm my heart. +Roses, wild roses, everywhere! So plentiful were they, they not only perfumed +the air, they seemed to dye it a faint rose-hue. The colour floated abroad with +the scent, and clomb, and spread, until the whole west blushed and glowed with +the gathered incense of roses. And my heart fainted with longing in my bosom. +</p> + +<p> +Could I but see the Spirit of the Earth, as I saw once the indwelling woman of +the beech-tree, and my beauty of the pale marble, I should be content. +Content!—Oh, how gladly would I die of the light of her eyes! Yea, I +would cease to be, if that would bring me one word of love from the one mouth. +The twilight sank around, and infolded me with sleep. I slept as I had not +slept for months. I did not awake till late in the morning; when, refreshed in +body and mind, I rose as from the death that wipes out the sadness of life, and +then dies itself in the new morrow. Again I followed the stream; now climbing a +steep rocky bank that hemmed it in; now wading through long grasses and wild +flowers in its path; now through meadows; and anon through woods that crowded +down to the very lip of the water. +</p> + +<p> +At length, in a nook of the river, gloomy with the weight of overhanging +foliage, and still and deep as a soul in which the torrent eddies of pain have +hollowed a great gulf, and then, subsiding in violence, have left it full of a +motionless, fathomless sorrow—I saw a little boat lying. So still was the +water here, that the boat needed no fastening. It lay as if some one had just +stepped ashore, and would in a moment return. But as there were no signs of +presence, and no track through the thick bushes; and, moreover, as I was in +Fairy Land where one does very much as he pleases, I forced my way to the +brink, stepped into the boat, pushed it, with the help of the tree-branches, +out into the stream, lay down in the bottom, and let my boat and me float +whither the stream would carry us. I seemed to lose myself in the great flow of +sky above me unbroken in its infinitude, except when now and then, coming +nearer the shore at a bend in the river, a tree would sweep its mighty head +silently above mine, and glide away back into the past, never more to fling its +shadow over me. I fell asleep in this cradle, in which mother Nature was +rocking her weary child; and while I slept, the sun slept not, but went round +his arched way. When I awoke, he slept in the waters, and I went on my silent +path beneath a round silvery moon. And a pale moon looked up from the floor of +the great blue cave that lay in the abysmal silence beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call the reality?—not so +grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? Fair as is the gliding +sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trembling, unresting sail below is +fairer still. Yea, the reflecting ocean itself, reflected in the mirror, has a +wondrousness about its waters that somewhat vanishes when I turn towards +itself. All mirrors are magic mirrors. The commonest room is a room in a poem +when I turn to the glass. (And this reminds me, while I write, of a strange +story which I read in the fairy palace, and of which I will try to make a +feeble memorial in its place.) In whatever way it may be accounted for, of one +thing we may be sure, that this feeling is no cheat; for there is no cheating +in nature and the simple unsought feelings of the soul. There must be a truth +involved in it, though we may but in part lay hold of the meaning. Even the +memories of past pain are beautiful; and past delights, though beheld only +through clefts in the grey clouds of sorrow, are lovely as Fairy Land. But how +have I wandered into the deeper fairyland of the soul, while as yet I only +float towards the fairy palace of Fairy Land! The moon, which is the lovelier +memory or reflex of the down-gone sun, the joyous day seen in the faint mirror +of the brooding night, had rapt me away. +</p> + +<p> +I sat up in the boat. Gigantic forest trees were about me; through which, like +a silver snake, twisted and twined the great river. The little waves, when I +moved in the boat, heaved and fell with a plash as of molten silver, breaking +the image of the moon into a thousand morsels, fusing again into one, as the +ripples of laughter die into the still face of joy. The sleeping woods, in +undefined massiveness; the water that flowed in its sleep; and, above all, the +enchantress moon, which had cast them all, with her pale eye, into the charmed +slumber, sank into my soul, and I felt as if I had died in a dream, and should +never more awake. +</p> + +<p> +From this I was partly aroused by a glimmering of white, that, through the +trees on the left, vaguely crossed my vision, as I gazed upwards. But the trees +again hid the object; and at the moment, some strange melodious bird took up +its song, and sang, not an ordinary bird-song, with constant repetitions of the +same melody, but what sounded like a continuous strain, in which one thought +was expressed, deepening in intensity as evolved in progress. It sounded like a +welcome already overshadowed with the coming farewell. As in all sweetest +music, a tinge of sadness was in every note. Nor do we know how much of the +pleasures even of life we owe to the intermingled sorrows. Joy cannot unfold +the deepest truths, although deepest truth must be deepest joy. Cometh +white-robed Sorrow, stooping and wan, and flingeth wide the doors she may not +enter. Almost we linger with Sorrow for very love. +</p> + +<p> +As the song concluded the stream bore my little boat with a gentle sweep round +a bend of the river; and lo! on a broad lawn, which rose from the water’s +edge with a long green slope to a clear elevation from which the trees receded +on all sides, stood a stately palace glimmering ghostly in the moonshine: it +seemed to be built throughout of the whitest marble. There was no reflection of +moonlight from windows—there seemed to be none; so there was no cold +glitter; only, as I said, a ghostly shimmer. Numberless shadows tempered the +shine, from column and balcony and tower. For everywhere galleries ran along +the face of the buildings; wings were extended in many directions; and +numberless openings, through which the moonbeams vanished into the interior, +and which served both for doors and windows, had their separate balconies in +front, communicating with a common gallery that rose on its own pillars. Of +course, I did not discover all this from the river, and in the moonlight. But, +though I was there for many days, I did not succeed in mastering the inner +topography of the building, so extensive and complicated was it. +</p> + +<p> +Here I wished to land, but the boat had no oars on board. However, I found that +a plank, serving for a seat, was unfastened, and with that I brought the boat +to the bank and scrambled on shore. Deep soft turf sank beneath my feet, as I +went up the ascent towards the palace. +</p> + +<p> +When I reached it, I saw that it stood on a great platform of marble, with an +ascent, by broad stairs of the same, all round it. Arrived on the platform, I +found there was an extensive outlook over the forest, which, however, was +rather veiled than revealed by the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +Entering by a wide gateway, but without gates, into an inner court, surrounded +on all sides by great marble pillars supporting galleries above, I saw a large +fountain of porphyry in the middle, throwing up a lofty column of water, which +fell, with a noise as of the fusion of all sweet sounds, into a basin beneath; +overflowing which, it ran into a single channel towards the interior of the +building. Although the moon was by this time so low in the west, that not a ray +of her light fell into the court, over the height of the surrounding buildings; +yet was the court lighted by a second reflex from the sun of other lands. For +the top of the column of water, just as it spread to fall, caught the +moonbeams, and like a great pale lamp, hung high in the night air, threw a dim +memory of light (as it were) over the court below. This court was paved in +diamonds of white and red marble. According to my custom since I entered Fairy +Land, of taking for a guide whatever I first found moving in any direction, I +followed the stream from the basin of the fountain. It led me to a great open +door, beneath the ascending steps of which it ran through a low arch and +disappeared. Entering here, I found myself in a great hall, surrounded with +white pillars, and paved with black and white. This I could see by the +moonlight, which, from the other side, streamed through open windows into the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +Its height I could not distinctly see. As soon as I entered, I had the feeling +so common to me in the woods, that there were others there besides myself, +though I could see no one, and heard no sound to indicate a presence. Since my +visit to the Church of Darkness, my power of seeing the fairies of the higher +orders had gradually diminished, until it had almost ceased. But I could +frequently believe in their presence while unable to see them. Still, although +I had company, and doubtless of a safe kind, it seemed rather dreary to spend +the night in an empty marble hall, however beautiful, especially as the moon +was near the going down, and it would soon be dark. So I began at the place +where I entered, and walked round the hall, looking for some door or passage +that might lead me to a more hospitable chamber. As I walked, I was deliciously +haunted with the feeling that behind some one of the seemingly innumerable +pillars, one who loved me was waiting for me. Then I thought she was following +me from pillar to pillar as I went along; but no arms came out of the faint +moonlight, and no sigh assured me of her presence. +</p> + +<p> +At length I came to an open corridor, into which I turned; notwithstanding +that, in doing so, I left the light behind. Along this I walked with +outstretched hands, groping my way, till, arriving at another corridor, which +seemed to strike off at right angles to that in which I was, I saw at the end a +faintly glimmering light, too pale even for moonshine, resembling rather a +stray phosphorescence. However, where everything was white, a little light went +a great way. So I walked on to the end, and a long corridor it was. When I came +up to the light, I found that it proceeded from what looked like silver letters +upon a door of ebony; and, to my surprise even in the home of wonder itself, +the letters formed the words, <i>The Chamber of Sir Anodos</i>. Although I had +as yet no right to the honours of a knight, I ventured to conclude that the +chamber was indeed intended for me; and, opening the door without hesitation, I +entered. Any doubt as to whether I was right in so doing, was soon dispelled. +What to my dark eyes seemed a blaze of light, burst upon me. A fire of large +pieces of some sweet-scented wood, supported by dogs of silver, was burning on +the hearth, and a bright lamp stood on a table, in the midst of a plentiful +meal, apparently awaiting my arrival. But what surprised me more than all, was, +that the room was in every respect a copy of my own room, the room whence the +little stream from my basin had led me into Fairy Land. There was the very +carpet of grass and moss and daisies, which I had myself designed; the curtains +of pale blue silk, that fell like a cataract over the windows; the +old-fashioned bed, with the chintz furniture, on which I had slept from +boyhood. “Now I shall sleep,” I said to myself. “My shadow +dares not come here.” +</p> + +<p> +I sat down to the table, and began to help myself to the good things before me +with confidence. And now I found, as in many instances before, how true the +fairy tales are; for I was waited on, all the time of my meal, by invisible +hands. I had scarcely to do more than look towards anything I wanted, when it +was brought me, just as if it had come to me of itself. My glass was kept +filled with the wine I had chosen, until I looked towards another bottle or +decanter; when a fresh glass was substituted, and the other wine supplied. When +I had eaten and drank more heartily and joyfully than ever since I entered +Fairy Land, the whole was removed by several attendants, of whom some were male +and some female, as I thought I could distinguish from the way the dishes were +lifted from the table, and the motion with which they were carried out of the +room. As soon as they were all taken away, I heard a sound as of the shutting +of a door, and knew that I was left alone. I sat long by the fire, meditating, +and wondering how it would all end; and when at length, wearied with thinking, +I betook myself to my own bed, it was half with a hope that, when I awoke in +the morning, I should awake not only in my own room, but in my own castle also; +and that I should walk, out upon my own native soil, and find that Fairy Land +was, after all, only a vision of the night. The sound of the falling waters of +the fountain floated me into oblivion. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“A wilderness of building, sinking far<br/> +And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth,<br/> +Far sinking into splendour—without end:<br/> +Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,<br/> +With alabaster domes, and silver spires,<br/> +And blazing terrace upon terrace, high<br/> +Uplifted.”<br/> + W<small>ORDSWORTH</small>. +</p> + +<p> +But when, after a sleep, which, although dreamless, yet left behind it a sense +of past blessedness, I awoke in the full morning, I found, indeed, that the +room was still my own; but that it looked abroad upon an unknown landscape of +forest and hill and dale on the one side—and on the other, upon the +marble court, with the great fountain, the crest of which now flashed glorious +in the sun, and cast on the pavement beneath a shower of faint shadows from the +waters that fell from it into the marble basin below. +</p> + +<p> +Agreeably to all authentic accounts of the treatment of travellers in Fairy +Land, I found by my bedside a complete suit of fresh clothing, just such as I +was in the habit of wearing; for, though varied sufficiently from the one +removed, it was yet in complete accordance with my tastes. I dressed myself in +this, and went out. The whole palace shone like silver in the sun. The marble +was partly dull and partly polished; and every pinnacle, dome, and turret ended +in a ball, or cone, or cusp of silver. It was like frost-work, and too +dazzling, in the sun, for earthly eyes like mine. +</p> + +<p> +I will not attempt to describe the environs, save by saying, that all the +pleasures to be found in the most varied and artistic arrangement of wood and +river, lawn and wild forest, garden and shrubbery, rocky hill and luxurious +vale; in living creatures wild and tame, in gorgeous birds, scattered +fountains, little streams, and reedy lakes—all were here. Some parts of +the palace itself I shall have occasion to describe more minutely. +</p> + +<p> +For this whole morning I never thought of my demon shadow; and not till the +weariness which supervened on delight brought it again to my memory, did I look +round to see if it was behind me: it was scarcely discernible. But its +presence, however faintly revealed, sent a pang to my heart, for the pain of +which, not all the beauties around me could compensate. It was followed, +however, by the comforting reflection that, peradventure, I might here find the +magic word of power to banish the demon and set me free, so that I should no +longer be a man beside myself. The Queen of Fairy Land, thought I, must dwell +here: surely she will put forth her power to deliver me, and send me singing +through the further gates of her country back to my own land. “Shadow of +me!” I said; “which art not me, but which representest thyself to +me as me; here I may find a shadow of light which will devour thee, the shadow +of darkness! Here I may find a blessing which will fall on thee as a curse, and +damn thee to the blackness whence thou hast emerged unbidden.” I said +this, stretched at length on the slope of the lawn above the river; and as the +hope arose within me, the sun came forth from a light fleecy cloud that swept +across his face; and hill and dale, and the great river winding on through the +still mysterious forest, flashed back his rays as with a silent shout of joy; +all nature lived and glowed; the very earth grew warm beneath me; a magnificent +dragon-fly went past me like an arrow from a bow, and a whole concert of birds +burst into choral song. +</p> + +<p> +The heat of the sun soon became too intense even for passive support. I +therefore rose, and sought the shelter of one of the arcades. Wandering along +from one to another of these, wherever my heedless steps led me, and wondering +everywhere at the simple magnificence of the building, I arrived at another +hall, the roof of which was of a pale blue, spangled with constellations of +silver stars, and supported by porphyry pillars of a paler red than +ordinary.—In this house (I may remark in passing), silver seemed +everywhere preferred to gold; and such was the purity of the air, that it +showed nowhere signs of tarnishing.—The whole of the floor of this hall, +except a narrow path behind the pillars, paved with black, was hollowed into a +huge basin, many feet deep, and filled with the purest, most liquid and radiant +water. The sides of the basin were white marble, and the bottom was paved with +all kinds of refulgent stones, of every shape and hue. +</p> + +<p> +In their arrangement, you would have supposed, at first sight, that there was +no design, for they seemed to lie as if cast there from careless and playful +hands; but it was a most harmonious confusion; and as I looked at the play of +their colours, especially when the waters were in motion, I came at last to +feel as if not one little pebble could be displaced, without injuring the +effect of the whole. Beneath this floor of the water, lay the reflection of the +blue inverted roof, fretted with its silver stars, like a second deeper sea, +clasping and upholding the first. The fairy bath was probably fed from the +fountain in the court. Led by an irresistible desire, I undressed, and plunged +into the water. It clothed me as with a new sense and its object both in one. +The waters lay so close to me, they seemed to enter and revive my heart. I rose +to the surface, shook the water from my hair, and swam as in a rainbow, amid +the coruscations of the gems below seen through the agitation caused by my +motion. Then, with open eyes, I dived, and swam beneath the surface. And here +was a new wonder. For the basin, thus beheld, appeared to extend on all sides +like a sea, with here and there groups as of ocean rocks, hollowed by ceaseless +billows into wondrous caves and grotesque pinnacles. Around the caves grew +sea-weeds of all hues, and the corals glowed between; while far off, I saw the +glimmer of what seemed to be creatures of human form at home in the waters. I +thought I had been enchanted; and that when I rose to the surface, I should +find myself miles from land, swimming alone upon a heaving sea; but when my +eyes emerged from the waters, I saw above me the blue spangled vault, and the +red pillars around. I dived again, and found myself once more in the heart of a +great sea. I then arose, and swam to the edge, where I got out easily, for the +water reached the very brim, and, as I drew near washed in tiny waves over the +black marble border. I dressed, and went out, deeply refreshed. +</p> + +<p> +And now I began to discern faint, gracious forms, here and there throughout the +building. Some walked together in earnest conversation. Others strayed alone. +Some stood in groups, as if looking at and talking about a picture or a statue. +None of them heeded me. Nor were they plainly visible to my eyes. Sometimes a +group, or single individual, would fade entirely out of the realm of my vision +as I gazed. When evening came, and the moon arose, clear as a round of a +horizon-sea when the sun hangs over it in the west, I began to see them all +more plainly; especially when they came between me and the moon; and yet more +especially, when I myself was in the shade. But, even then, I sometimes saw +only the passing wave of a white robe; or a lovely arm or neck gleamed by in +the moonshine; or white feet went walking alone over the moony sward. Nor, I +grieve to say, did I ever come much nearer to these glorious beings, or ever +look upon the Queen of the Fairies herself. My destiny ordered otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +In this palace of marble and silver, and fountains and moonshine, I spent many +days; waited upon constantly in my room with everything desirable, and bathing +daily in the fairy bath. All this time I was little troubled with my demon +shadow I had a vague feeling that he was somewhere about the palace; but it +seemed as if the hope that I should in this place be finally freed from his +hated presence, had sufficed to banish him for a time. How and where I found +him, I shall soon have to relate. +</p> + +<p> +The third day after my arrival, I found the library of the palace; and here, +all the time I remained, I spent most of the middle of the day. For it was, not +to mention far greater attractions, a luxurious retreat from the noontide sun. +During the mornings and afternoons, I wandered about the lovely neighbourhood, +or lay, lost in delicious day-dreams, beneath some mighty tree on the open +lawn. My evenings were by-and-by spent in a part of the palace, the account of +which, and of my adventures in connection with it, I must yet postpone for a +little. +</p> + +<p> +The library was a mighty hall, lighted from the roof, which was formed of +something like glass, vaulted over in a single piece, and stained throughout +with a great mysterious picture in gorgeous colouring. +</p> + +<p> +The walls were lined from floor to roof with books and books: most of them in +ancient bindings, but some in strange new fashions which I had never seen, and +which, were I to make the attempt, I could ill describe. All around the walls, +in front of the books, ran galleries in rows, communicating by stairs. These +galleries were built of all kinds of coloured stones; all sorts of marble and +granite, with porphyry, jasper, lapis lazuli, agate, and various others, were +ranged in wonderful melody of successive colours. Although the material, then, +of which these galleries and stairs were built, rendered necessary a certain +degree of massiveness in the construction, yet such was the size of the place, +that they seemed to run along the walls like cords. +</p> + +<p> +Over some parts of the library, descended curtains of silk of various dyes, +none of which I ever saw lifted while I was there; and I felt somehow that it +would be presumptuous in me to venture to look within them. But the use of the +other books seemed free; and day after day I came to the library, threw myself +on one of the many sumptuous eastern carpets, which lay here and there on the +floor, and read, and read, until weary; if that can be designated as weariness, +which was rather the faintness of rapturous delight; or until, sometimes, the +failing of the light invited me to go abroad, in the hope that a cool gentle +breeze might have arisen to bathe, with an airy invigorating bath, the limbs +which the glow of the burning spirit within had withered no less than the glow +of the blazing sun without. +</p> + +<p> +One peculiarity of these books, or at least most of those I looked into, I must +make a somewhat vain attempt to describe. +</p> + +<p> +If, for instance, it was a book of metaphysics I opened, I had scarcely read +two pages before I seemed to myself to be pondering over discovered truth, and +constructing the intellectual machine whereby to communicate the discovery to +my fellow men. With some books, however, of this nature, it seemed rather as if +the process was removed yet a great way further back; and I was trying to find +the root of a manifestation, the spiritual truth whence a material vision +sprang; or to combine two propositions, both apparently true, either at once or +in different remembered moods, and to find the point in which their invisibly +converging lines would unite in one, revealing a truth higher than either and +differing from both; though so far from being opposed to either, that it was +that whence each derived its life and power. Or if the book was one of travels, +I found myself the traveller. New lands, fresh experiences, novel customs, rose +around me. I walked, I discovered, I fought, I suffered, I rejoiced in my +success. Was it a history? I was the chief actor therein. I suffered my own +blame; I was glad in my own praise. With a fiction it was the same. Mine was +the whole story. For I took the place of the character who was most like +myself, and his story was mine; until, grown weary with the life of years +condensed in an hour, or arrived at my deathbed, or the end of the volume, I +would awake, with a sudden bewilderment, to the consciousness of my present +life, recognising the walls and roof around me, and finding I joyed or sorrowed +only in a book. If the book was a poem, the words disappeared, or took the +subordinate position of an accompaniment to the succession of forms and images +that rose and vanished with a soundless rhythm, and a hidden rime. +</p> + +<p> +In one, with a mystical title, which I cannot recall, I read of a world that is +not like ours. The wondrous account, in such a feeble, fragmentary way as is +possible to me, I would willingly impart. Whether or not it was all a poem, I +cannot tell; but, from the impulse I felt, when I first contemplated writing +it, to break into rime, to which impulse I shall give way if it comes upon me +again, I think it must have been, partly at least, in verse. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Chained is the Spring. The night-wind bold<br/> + Blows over the hard earth;<br/> +Time is not more confused and cold,<br/> + Nor keeps more wintry mirth.<br/> +<br/> +“Yet blow, and roll the world about;<br/> + Blow, Time—blow, winter’s Wind!<br/> +Through chinks of Time, heaven peepeth out,<br/> + And Spring the frost behind.”<br/> + G. E. M. +</p> + +<p> +They who believe in the influences of the stars over the fates of men, are, in +feeling at least, nearer the truth than they who regard the heavenly bodies as +related to them merely by a common obedience to an external law. All that man +sees has to do with man. Worlds cannot be without an intermundane relationship. +The community of the centre of all creation suggests an interradiating +connection and dependence of the parts. Else a grander idea is conceivable than +that which is already imbodied. The blank, which is only a forgotten life, +lying behind the consciousness, and the misty splendour, which is an +undeveloped life, lying before it, may be full of mysterious revelations of +other connexions with the worlds around us, than those of science and poetry. +No shining belt or gleaming moon, no red and green glory in a self-encircling +twin-star, but has a relation with the hidden things of a man’s soul, +and, it may be, with the secret history of his body as well. They are portions +of the living house wherein he abides. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Through the realms of the monarch Sun<br/> +Creeps a world, whose course had begun,<br/> +On a weary path with a weary pace,<br/> +Before the Earth sprang forth on her race:<br/> +But many a time the Earth had sped<br/> +Around the path she still must tread,<br/> +Ere the elder planet, on leaden wing,<br/> +Once circled the court of the planet’s king.<br/> +<br/> +There, in that lonely and distant star,<br/> +The seasons are not as our seasons are;<br/> +But many a year hath Autumn to dress<br/> +The trees in their matron loveliness;<br/> +As long hath old Winter in triumph to go<br/> +O’er beauties dead in his vaults below;<br/> +And many a year the Spring doth wear<br/> +Combing the icicles from her hair;<br/> +And Summer, dear Summer, hath years of June,<br/> +With large white clouds, and cool showers at noon:<br/> +And a beauty that grows to a weight like grief,<br/> +Till a burst of tears is the heart’s relief.<br/> +<br/> +Children, born when Winter is king,<br/> +May never rejoice in the hoping Spring;<br/> +Though their own heart-buds are bursting with joy,<br/> +And the child hath grown to the girl or boy;<br/> +But may die with cold and icy hours<br/> +Watching them ever in place of flowers.<br/> +And some who awake from their primal sleep,<br/> +When the sighs of Summer through forests creep,<br/> +Live, and love, and are loved again;<br/> +Seek for pleasure, and find its pain;<br/> +Sink to their last, their forsaken sleeping,<br/> +With the same sweet odours around them creeping. +</p> + +<p> +Now the children, there, are not born as the children are born in worlds nearer +to the sun. For they arrive no one knows how. A maiden, walking alone, hears a +cry: for even there a cry is the first utterance; and searching about, she +findeth, under an overhanging rock, or within a clump of bushes, or, it may be, +betwixt gray stones on the side of a hill, or in any other sheltered and +unexpected spot, a little child. This she taketh tenderly, and beareth home +with joy, calling out, “Mother, mother”—if so be that her +mother lives—“I have got a baby—I have found a child!” +All the household gathers round to see;—“<i>Where is it? What is it +like? Where did you find it?</i>” and such-like questions, abounding. And +thereupon she relates the whole story of the discovery; for by the +circumstances, such as season of the year, time of the day, condition of the +air, and such like, and, especially, the peculiar and never-repeated aspect of +the heavens and earth at the time, and the nature of the place of shelter +wherein it is found, is determined, or at least indicated, the nature of the +child thus discovered. Therefore, at certain seasons, and in certain states of +the weather, according, in part, to their own fancy, the young women go out to +look for children. They generally avoid seeking them, though they cannot help +sometimes finding them, in places and with circumstances uncongenial to their +peculiar likings. But no sooner is a child found, than its claim for protection +and nurture obliterates all feeling of choice in the matter. Chiefly, however, +in the season of summer, which lasts so long, coming as it does after such long +intervals; and mostly in the warm evenings, about the middle of twilight; and +principally in the woods and along the river banks, do the maidens go looking +for children just as children look for flowers. And ever as the child grows, +yea, more and more as he advances in years, will his face indicate to those who +understand the spirit of Nature, and her utterances in the face of the world, +the nature of the place of his birth, and the other circumstances thereof; +whether a clear morning sun guided his mother to the nook whence issued the +boy’s low cry; or at eve the lonely maiden (for the same woman never +finds a second, at least while the first lives) discovers the girl by the +glimmer of her white skin, lying in a nest like that of the lark, amid long +encircling grasses, and the upward-gazing eyes of the lowly daisies; whether +the storm bowed the forest trees around, or the still frost fixed in silence +the else flowing and babbling stream. +</p> + +<p> +After they grow up, the men and women are but little together. There is this +peculiar difference between them, which likewise distinguishes the women from +those of the earth. The men alone have arms; the women have only wings. +Resplendent wings are they, wherein they can shroud themselves from head to +foot in a panoply of glistering glory. By these wings alone, it may frequently +be judged in what seasons, and under what aspects, they were born. From those +that came in winter, go great white wings, white as snow; the edge of every +feather shining like the sheen of silver, so that they flash and glitter like +frost in the sun. But underneath, they are tinged with a faint pink or +rose-colour. Those born in spring have wings of a brilliant green, green as +grass; and towards the edges the feathers are enamelled like the surface of the +grass-blades. These again are white within. Those that are born in summer have +wings of a deep rose-colour, lined with pale gold. And those born in autumn +have purple wings, with a rich brown on the inside. But these colours are +modified and altered in all varieties, corresponding to the mood of the day and +hour, as well as the season of the year; and sometimes I found the various +colours so intermingled, that I could not determine even the season, though +doubtless the hieroglyphic could be deciphered by more experienced eyes. One +splendour, in particular, I remember—wings of deep carmine, with an inner +down of warm gray, around a form of brilliant whiteness. +</p> + +<p> +She had been found as the sun went down through a low sea-fog, casting crimson +along a broad sea-path into a little cave on the shore, where a bathing maiden +saw her lying. +</p> + +<p> +But though I speak of sun and fog, and sea and shore, the world there is in +some respects very different from the earth whereon men live. For instance, the +waters reflect no forms. To the unaccustomed eye they appear, if undisturbed, +like the surface of a dark metal, only that the latter would reflect +indistinctly, whereas they reflect not at all, except light which falls +immediately upon them. This has a great effect in causing the landscapes to +differ from those on the earth. On the stillest evening, no tall ship on the +sea sends a long wavering reflection almost to the feet of him on shore; the +face of no maiden brightens at its own beauty in a still forest-well. The sun +and moon alone make a glitter on the surface. The sea is like a sea of death, +ready to ingulf and never to reveal: a visible shadow of oblivion. Yet the +women sport in its waters like gorgeous sea-birds. The men more rarely enter +them. But, on the contrary, the sky reflects everything beneath it, as if it +were built of water like ours. Of course, from its concavity there is some +distortion of the reflected objects; yet wondrous combinations of form are +often to be seen in the overhanging depth. And then it is not shaped so much +like a round dome as the sky of the earth, but, more of an egg-shape, rises to +a great towering height in the middle, appearing far more lofty than the other. +When the stars come out at night, it shows a mighty cupola, “fretted with +golden fires,” wherein there is room for all tempests to rush and rave. +</p> + +<p> +One evening in early summer, I stood with a group of men and women on a steep +rock that overhung the sea. They were all questioning me about my world and the +ways thereof. In making reply to one of their questions, I was compelled to say +that children are not born in the Earth as with them. Upon this I was assailed +with a whole battery of inquiries, which at first I tried to avoid; but, at +last, I was compelled, in the vaguest manner I could invent, to make some +approach to the subject in question. Immediately a dim notion of what I meant, +seemed to dawn in the minds of most of the women. Some of them folded their +great wings all around them, as they generally do when in the least offended, +and stood erect and motionless. One spread out her rosy pinions, and flashed +from the promontory into the gulf at its foot. A great light shone in the eyes +of one maiden, who turned and walked slowly away, with her purple and white +wings half dispread behind her. She was found, the next morning, dead beneath a +withered tree on a bare hill-side, some miles inland. They buried her where she +lay, as is their custom; for, before they die, they instinctively search for a +spot like the place of their birth, and having found one that satisfies them, +they lie down, fold their wings around them, if they be women, or cross their +arms over their breasts, if they are men, just as if they were going to sleep; +and so sleep indeed. The sign or cause of coming death is an indescribable +longing for something, they know not what, which seizes them, and drives them +into solitude, consuming them within, till the body fails. When a youth and a +maiden look too deep into each other’s eyes, this longing seizes and +possesses them; but instead of drawing nearer to each other, they wander away, +each alone, into solitary places, and die of their desire. But it seems to me, +that thereafter they are born babes upon our earth: where, if, when grown, they +find each other, it goes well with them; if not, it will seem to go ill. But of +this I know nothing. When I told them that the women on the Earth had not wings +like them, but arms, they stared, and said how bold and masculine they must +look; not knowing that their wings, glorious as they are, are but undeveloped +arms. +</p> + +<p> +But see the power of this book, that, while recounting what I can recall of its +contents, I write as if myself had visited the far-off planet, learned its ways +and appearances, and conversed with its men and women. And so, while writing, +it seemed to me that I had. +</p> + +<p> +The book goes on with the story of a maiden, who, born at the close of autumn, +and living in a long, to her endless winter, set out at last to find the +regions of spring; for, as in our earth, the seasons are divided over the +globe. It begins something like this: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +She watched them dying for many a day,<br/> +Dropping from off the old trees away,<br/> +One by one; or else in a shower<br/> +Crowding over the withered flower<br/> +For as if they had done some grievous wrong,<br/> +The sun, that had nursed them and loved them so long,<br/> +Grew weary of loving, and, turning back,<br/> +Hastened away on his southern track;<br/> +And helplessly hung each shrivelled leaf,<br/> +Faded away with an idle grief.<br/> +And the gusts of wind, sad Autumn’s sighs,<br/> +Mournfully swept through their families;<br/> +Casting away with a helpless moan<br/> +All that he yet might call his own,<br/> +As the child, when his bird is gone for ever,<br/> +Flingeth the cage on the wandering river.<br/> +And the giant trees, as bare as Death,<br/> +Slowly bowed to the great Wind’s breath;<br/> +And groaned with trying to keep from groaning<br/> +Amidst the young trees bending and moaning.<br/> +And the ancient planet’s mighty sea<br/> +Was heaving and falling most restlessly,<br/> +And the tops of the waves were broken and white,<br/> +Tossing about to ease their might;<br/> +And the river was striving to reach the main,<br/> +And the ripple was hurrying back again.<br/> +Nature lived in sadness now;<br/> +Sadness lived on the maiden’s brow,<br/> +As she watched, with a fixed, half-conscious eye,<br/> +One lonely leaf that trembled on high,<br/> +Till it dropped at last from the desolate bough—<br/> +Sorrow, oh, sorrow! ‘tis winter now.<br/> +And her tears gushed forth, though it was but a leaf,<br/> +For little will loose the swollen fountain of grief:<br/> +When up to the lip the water goes,<br/> +It needs but a drop, and it overflows.<br/> +<br/> +Oh! many and many a dreary year<br/> +Must pass away ere the buds appear:<br/> +Many a night of darksome sorrow<br/> +Yield to the light of a joyless morrow,<br/> +Ere birds again, on the clothed trees,<br/> +Shall fill the branches with melodies.<br/> +She will dream of meadows with wakeful streams;<br/> +Of wavy grass in the sunny beams;<br/> +Of hidden wells that soundless spring,<br/> +Hoarding their joy as a holy thing;<br/> +Of founts that tell it all day long<br/> +To the listening woods, with exultant song;<br/> +She will dream of evenings that die into nights,<br/> +Where each sense is filled with its own delights,<br/> +And the soul is still as the vaulted sky,<br/> +Lulled with an inner harmony;<br/> +<br/> +And the flowers give out to the dewy night,<br/> +Changed into perfume, the gathered light;<br/> +And the darkness sinks upon all their host,<br/> +Till the sun sail up on the eastern coast—<br/> +She will wake and see the branches bare,<br/> +Weaving a net in the frozen air. +</p> + +<p> +The story goes on to tell how, at last, weary with wintriness, she travelled +towards the southern regions of her globe, to meet the spring on its slow way +northwards; and how, after many sad adventures, many disappointed hopes, and +many tears, bitter and fruitless, she found at last, one stormy afternoon, in a +leafless forest, a single snowdrop growing betwixt the borders of the winter +and spring. She lay down beside it and died. I almost believe that a child, +pale and peaceful as a snowdrop, was born in the Earth within a fixed season +from that stormy afternoon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“I saw a ship sailing upon the sea<br/> +Deeply laden as ship could be;<br/> +But not so deep as in love I am<br/> +For I care not whether I sink or swim.”<br/> + O<small>LD</small> B<small>ALLAD</small>.<br/> +<br/> +“But Love is such a Mystery<br/> + I cannot find it out:<br/> +For when I think I’m best resolv’d,<br/> + I then am in most doubt.”<br/> + S<small>IR</small> J<small>OHN</small> S<small>UCKLING</small>. +</p> + +<p> +One story I will try to reproduce. But, alas! it is like trying to reconstruct +a forest out of broken branches and withered leaves. In the fairy book, +everything was just as it should be, though whether in words or something else, +I cannot tell. It glowed and flashed the thoughts upon the soul, with such a +power that the medium disappeared from the consciousness, and it was occupied +only with the things themselves. My representation of it must resemble a +translation from a rich and powerful language, capable of embodying the +thoughts of a splendidly developed people, into the meagre and half-articulate +speech of a savage tribe. Of course, while I read it, I was Cosmo, and his +history was mine. Yet, all the time, I seemed to have a kind of double +consciousness, and the story a double meaning. Sometimes it seemed only to +represent a simple story of ordinary life, perhaps almost of universal life; +wherein two souls, loving each other and longing to come nearer, do, after all, +but behold each other as in a glass darkly. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +As through the hard rock go the branching silver veins; as into the solid land +run the creeks and gulfs from the unresting sea; as the lights and influences +of the upper worlds sink silently through the earth’s atmosphere; so doth +Faerie invade the world of men, and sometimes startle the common eye with an +association as of cause and effect, when between the two no connecting links +can be traced. +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo von Wehrstahl was a student at the University of Prague. Though of a +noble family, he was poor, and prided himself upon the independence that +poverty gives; for what will not a man pride himself upon, when he cannot get +rid of it? A favourite with his fellow students, he yet had no companions; and +none of them had ever crossed the threshold of his lodging in the top of one of +the highest houses in the old town. Indeed, the secret of much of that +complaisance which recommended him to his fellows, was the thought of his +unknown retreat, whither in the evening he could betake himself and indulge +undisturbed in his own studies and reveries. These studies, besides those +subjects necessary to his course at the University, embraced some less commonly +known and approved; for in a secret drawer lay the works of Albertus Magnus and +Cornelius Agrippa, along with others less read and more abstruse. As yet, +however, he had followed these researches only from curiosity, and had turned +them to no practical purpose. +</p> + +<p> +His lodging consisted of one large low-ceiled room, singularly bare of +furniture; for besides a couple of wooden chairs, a couch which served for +dreaming on both by day and night, and a great press of black oak, there was +very little in the room that could be called furniture. +</p> + +<p> +But curious instruments were heaped in the corners; and in one stood a +skeleton, half-leaning against the wall, half-supported by a string about its +neck. One of its hands, all of fingers, rested on the heavy pommel of a great +sword that stood beside it. +</p> + +<p> +Various weapons were scattered about over the floor. The walls were utterly +bare of adornment; for the few strange things, such as a large dried bat with +wings dispread, the skin of a porcupine, and a stuffed sea-mouse, could hardly +be reckoned as such. But although his fancy delighted in vagaries like these, +he indulged his imagination with far different fare. His mind had never yet +been filled with an absorbing passion; but it lay like a still twilight open to +any wind, whether the low breath that wafts but odours, or the storm that bows +the great trees till they strain and creak. He saw everything as through a +rose-coloured glass. When he looked from his window on the street below, not a +maiden passed but she moved as in a story, and drew his thoughts after her till +she disappeared in the vista. When he walked in the streets, he always felt as +if reading a tale, into which he sought to weave every face of interest that +went by; and every sweet voice swept his soul as with the wing of a passing +angel. He was in fact a poet without words; the more absorbed and endangered, +that the springing-waters were dammed back into his soul, where, finding no +utterance, they grew, and swelled, and undermined. He used to lie on his hard +couch, and read a tale or a poem, till the book dropped from his hand; but he +dreamed on, he knew not whether awake or asleep, until the opposite roof grew +upon his sense, and turned golden in the sunrise. Then he arose too; and the +impulses of vigorous youth kept him ever active, either in study or in sport, +until again the close of the day left him free; and the world of night, which +had lain drowned in the cataract of the day, rose up in his soul, with all its +stars, and dim-seen phantom shapes. But this could hardly last long. Some one +form must sooner or later step within the charmed circle, enter the house of +life, and compel the bewildered magician to kneel and worship. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, towards dusk, he was wandering dreamily in one of the principal +streets, when a fellow student roused him by a slap on the shoulder, and asked +him to accompany him into a little back alley to look at some old armour which +he had taken a fancy to possess. Cosmo was considered an authority in every +matter pertaining to arms, ancient or modern. In the use of weapons, none of +the students could come near him; and his practical acquaintance with some had +principally contributed to establish his authority in reference to all. He +accompanied him willingly. +</p> + +<p> +They entered a narrow alley, and thence a dirty little court, where a low +arched door admitted them into a heterogeneous assemblage of everything musty, +and dusty, and old, that could well be imagined. His verdict on the armour was +satisfactory, and his companion at once concluded the purchase. As they were +leaving the place, Cosmo’s eye was attracted by an old mirror of an +elliptical shape, which leaned against the wall, covered with dust. Around it +was some curious carving, which he could see but very indistinctly by the +glimmering light which the owner of the shop carried in his hand. It was this +carving that attracted his attention; at least so it appeared to him. He left +the place, however, with his friend, taking no further notice of it. They +walked together to the main street, where they parted and took opposite +directions. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner was Cosmo left alone, than the thought of the curious old mirror +returned to him. A strong desire to see it more plainly arose within him, and +he directed his steps once more towards the shop. The owner opened the door +when he knocked, as if he had expected him. He was a little, old, withered man, +with a hooked nose, and burning eyes constantly in a slow restless motion, and +looking here and there as if after something that eluded them. Pretending to +examine several other articles, Cosmo at last approached the mirror, and +requested to have it taken down. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it down yourself, master; I cannot reach it,” said the old +man. +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo took it down carefully, when he saw that the carving was indeed delicate +and costly, being both of admirable design and execution; containing withal +many devices which seemed to embody some meaning to which he had no clue. This, +naturally, in one of his tastes and temperament, increased the interest he felt +in the old mirror; so much, indeed, that he now longed to possess it, in order +to study its frame at his leisure. He pretended, however, to want it only for +use; and saying he feared the plate could be of little service, as it was +rather old, he brushed away a little of the dust from its face, expecting to +see a dull reflection within. His surprise was great when he found the +reflection brilliant, revealing a glass not only uninjured by age, but +wondrously clear and perfect (should the whole correspond to this part) even +for one newly from the hands of the maker. He asked carelessly what the owner +wanted for the thing. The old man replied by mentioning a sum of money far +beyond the reach of poor Cosmo, who proceeded to replace the mirror where it +had stood before. +</p> + +<p> +“You think the price too high?” said the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know that it is too much for you to ask,” replied Cosmo; +“but it is far too much for me to give.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man held up his light towards Cosmo’s face. “I like your +look,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo could not return the compliment. In fact, now he looked closely at him +for the first time, he felt a kind of repugnance to him, mingled with a strange +feeling of doubt whether a man or a woman stood before him. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” he continued. +</p> + +<p> +“Cosmo von Wehrstahl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! I thought as much. I see your father in you. I knew your father +very well, young sir. I dare say in some odd corners of my house, you might +find some old things with his crest and cipher upon them still. Well, I like +you: you shall have the mirror at the fourth part of what I asked for it; but +upon one condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” said Cosmo; for, although the price was still a +great deal for him to give, he could just manage it; and the desire to possess +the mirror had increased to an altogether unaccountable degree, since it had +seemed beyond his reach. +</p> + +<p> +“That if you should ever want to get rid of it again, you will let me +have the first offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” replied Cosmo, with a smile; adding, “a moderate +condition indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“On your honour?” insisted the seller. +</p> + +<p> +“On my honour,” said the buyer; and the bargain was concluded. +</p> + +<p> +“I will carry it home for you,” said the old man, as Cosmo took it +in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; I will carry it myself,” said he; for he had a peculiar +dislike to revealing his residence to any one, and more especially to this +person, to whom he felt every moment a greater antipathy. “Just as you +please,” said the old creature, and muttered to himself as he held his +light at the door to show him out of the court: “Sold for the sixth time! +I wonder what will be the upshot of it this time. I should think my lady had +enough of it by now!” +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo carried his prize carefully home. But all the way he had an uncomfortable +feeling that he was watched and dogged. Repeatedly he looked about, but saw +nothing to justify his suspicions. Indeed, the streets were too crowded and too +ill lighted to expose very readily a careful spy, if such there should be at +his heels. He reached his lodging in safety, and leaned his purchase against +the wall, rather relieved, strong as he was, to be rid of its weight; then, +lighting his pipe, threw himself on the couch, and was soon lapt in the folds +of one of his haunting dreams. +</p> + +<p> +He returned home earlier than usual the next day, and fixed the mirror to the +wall, over the hearth, at one end of his long room. +</p> + +<p> +He then carefully wiped away the dust from its face, and, clear as the water of +a sunny spring, the mirror shone out from beneath the envious covering. But his +interest was chiefly occupied with the curious carving of the frame. This he +cleaned as well as he could with a brush; and then he proceeded to a minute +examination of its various parts, in the hope of discovering some index to the +intention of the carver. In this, however, he was unsuccessful; and, at length, +pausing with some weariness and disappointment, he gazed vacantly for a few +moments into the depth of the reflected room. But ere long he said, half aloud: +“What a strange thing a mirror is! and what a wondrous affinity exists +between it and a man’s imagination! For this room of mine, as I behold it +in the glass, is the same, and yet not the same. It is not the mere +representation of the room I live in, but it looks just as if I were reading +about it in a story I like. All its commonness has disappeared. The mirror has +lifted it out of the region of fact into the realm of art; and the very +representing of it to me has clothed with interest that which was otherwise +hard and bare; just as one sees with delight upon the stage the representation +of a character from which one would escape in life as from something +unendurably wearisome. But is it not rather that art rescues nature from the +weary and sated regards of our senses, and the degrading injustice of our +anxious everyday life, and, appealing to the imagination, which dwells apart, +reveals Nature in some degree as she really is, and as she represents herself +to the eye of the child, whose every-day life, fearless and unambitious, meets +the true import of the wonder-teeming world around him, and rejoices therein +without questioning? That skeleton, now—I almost fear it, standing there +so still, with eyes only for the unseen, like a watch-tower looking across all +the waste of this busy world into the quiet regions of rest beyond. And yet I +know every bone and every joint in it as well as my own fist. And that old +battle-axe looks as if any moment it might be caught up by a mailed hand, and, +borne forth by the mighty arm, go crashing through casque, and skull, and +brain, invading the Unknown with yet another bewildered ghost. I should like to +live in <i>that</i> room if I could only get into it.” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had the half-moulded words floated from him, as he stood gazing into +the mirror, when, striking him as with a flash of amazement that fixed him in +his posture, noiseless and unannounced, glided suddenly through the door into +the reflected room, with stately motion, yet reluctant and faltering step, the +graceful form of a woman, clothed all in white. Her back only was visible as +she walked slowly up to the couch in the further end of the room, on which she +laid herself wearily, turning towards him a face of unutterable loveliness, in +which suffering, and dislike, and a sense of compulsion, strangely mingled with +the beauty. He stood without the power of motion for some moments, with his +eyes irrecoverably fixed upon her; and even after he was conscious of the +ability to move, he could not summon up courage to turn and look on her, face +to face, in the veritable chamber in which he stood. At length, with a sudden +effort, in which the exercise of the will was so pure, that it seemed +involuntary, he turned his face to the couch. It was vacant. In bewilderment, +mingled with terror, he turned again to the mirror: there, on the reflected +couch, lay the exquisite lady-form. She lay with closed eyes, whence two large +tears were just welling from beneath the veiling lids; still as death, save for +the convulsive motion of her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo himself could not have described what he felt. His emotions were of a +kind that destroyed consciousness, and could never be clearly recalled. He +could not help standing yet by the mirror, and keeping his eyes fixed on the +lady, though he was painfully aware of his rudeness, and feared every moment +that she would open hers, and meet his fixed regard. But he was, ere long, a +little relieved; for, after a while, her eyelids slowly rose, and her eyes +remained uncovered, but unemployed for a time; and when, at length, they began +to wander about the room, as if languidly seeking to make some acquaintance +with her environment, they were never directed towards him: it seemed nothing +but what was in the mirror could affect her vision; and, therefore, if she saw +him at all, it could only be his back, which, of necessity, was turned towards +her in the glass. The two figures in the mirror could not meet face to face, +except he turned and looked at her, present in his room; and, as she was not +there, he concluded that if he were to turn towards the part in his room +corresponding to that in which she lay, his reflection would either be +invisible to her altogether, or at least it must appear to her to gaze vacantly +towards her, and no meeting of the eyes would produce the impression of +spiritual proximity. By-and-by her eyes fell upon the skeleton, and he saw her +shudder and close them. She did not open them again, but signs of repugnance +continued evident on her countenance. Cosmo would have removed the obnoxious +thing at once, but he feared to discompose her yet more by the assertion of his +presence which the act would involve. So he stood and watched her. The eyelids +yet shrouded the eyes, as a costly case the jewels within; the troubled +expression gradually faded from the countenance, leaving only a faint sorrow +behind; the features settled into an unchanging expression of rest; and by +these signs, and the slow regular motion of her breathing, Cosmo knew that she +slept. He could now gaze on her without embarrassment. He saw that her figure, +dressed in the simplest robe of white, was worthy of her face; and so +harmonious, that either the delicately moulded foot, or any finger of the +equally delicate hand, was an index to the whole. As she lay, her whole form +manifested the relaxation of perfect repose. He gazed till he was weary, and at +last seated himself near the new-found shrine, and mechanically took up a book, +like one who watches by a sick-bed. But his eyes gathered no thoughts from the +page before him. His intellect had been stunned by the bold contradiction, to +its face, of all its experience, and now lay passive, without assertion, or +speculation, or even conscious astonishment; while his imagination sent one +wild dream of blessedness after another coursing through his soul. How long he +sat he knew not; but at length he roused himself, rose, and, trembling in every +portion of his frame, looked again into the mirror. She was gone. The mirror +reflected faithfully what his room presented, and nothing more. It stood there +like a golden setting whence the central jewel has been stolen away—like +a night-sky without the glory of its stars. She had carried with her all the +strangeness of the reflected room. It had sunk to the level of the one without. +</p> + +<p> +But when the first pangs of his disappointment had passed, Cosmo began to +comfort himself with the hope that she might return, perhaps the next evening, +at the same hour. Resolving that if she did, she should not at least be scared +by the hateful skeleton, he removed that and several other articles of +questionable appearance into a recess by the side of the hearth, whence they +could not possibly cast any reflection into the mirror; and having made his +poor room as tidy as he could, sought the solace of the open sky and of a night +wind that had begun to blow, for he could not rest where he was. When he +returned, somewhat composed, he could hardly prevail with himself to lie down +on his bed; for he could not help feeling as if she had lain upon it; and for +him to lie there now would be something like sacrilege. However, weariness +prevailed; and laying himself on the couch, dressed as he was, he slept till +day. +</p> + +<p> +With a beating heart, beating till he could hardly breathe, he stood in dumb +hope before the mirror, on the following evening. Again the reflected room +shone as through a purple vapour in the gathering twilight. Everything seemed +waiting like himself for a coming splendour to glorify its poor earthliness +with the presence of a heavenly joy. And just as the room vibrated with the +strokes of the neighbouring church bell, announcing the hour of six, in glided +the pale beauty, and again laid herself on the couch. Poor Cosmo nearly lost +his senses with delight. She was there once more! Her eyes sought the corner +where the skeleton had stood, and a faint gleam of satisfaction crossed her +face, apparently at seeing it empty. She looked suffering still, but there was +less of discomfort expressed in her countenance than there had been the night +before. She took more notice of the things about her, and seemed to gaze with +some curiosity on the strange apparatus standing here and there in her room. At +length, however, drowsiness seemed to overtake her, and again she fell asleep. +Resolved not to lose sight of her this time, Cosmo watched the sleeping form. +Her slumber was so deep and absorbing that a fascinating repose seemed to pass +contagiously from her to him as he gazed upon her; and he started as if from a +dream, when the lady moved, and, without opening her eyes, rose, and passed +from the room with the gait of a somnambulist. +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo was now in a state of extravagant delight. Most men have a secret +treasure somewhere. The miser has his golden hoard; the virtuoso his pet ring; +the student his rare book; the poet his favourite haunt; the lover his secret +drawer; but Cosmo had a mirror with a lovely lady in it. And now that he knew +by the skeleton, that she was affected by the things around her, he had a new +object in life: he would turn the bare chamber in the mirror into a room such +as no lady need disdain to call her own. This he could effect only by +furnishing and adorning his. And Cosmo was poor. Yet he possessed +accomplishments that could be turned to account; although, hitherto, he had +preferred living on his slender allowance, to increasing his means by what his +pride considered unworthy of his rank. He was the best swordsman in the +University; and now he offered to give lessons in fencing and similar +exercises, to such as chose to pay him well for the trouble. His proposal was +heard with surprise by the students; but it was eagerly accepted by many; and +soon his instructions were not confined to the richer students, but were +anxiously sought by many of the young nobility of Prague and its neighbourhood. +So that very soon he had a good deal of money at his command. The first thing +he did was to remove his apparatus and oddities into a closet in the room. Then +he placed his bed and a few other necessaries on each side of the hearth, and +parted them from the rest of the room by two screens of Indian fabric. Then he +put an elegant couch for the lady to lie upon, in the corner where his bed had +formerly stood; and, by degrees, every day adding some article of luxury, +converted it, at length, into a rich boudoir. +</p> + +<p> +Every night, about the same time, the lady entered. The first time she saw the +new couch, she started with a half-smile; then her face grew very sad, the +tears came to her eyes, and she laid herself upon the couch, and pressed her +face into the silken cushions, as if to hide from everything. She took notice +of each addition and each change as the work proceeded; and a look of +acknowledgment, as if she knew that some one was ministering to her, and was +grateful for it, mingled with the constant look of suffering. At length, after +she had lain down as usual one evening, her eyes fell upon some paintings with +which Cosmo had just finished adorning the walls. She rose, and to his great +delight, walked across the room, and proceeded to examine them carefully, +testifying much pleasure in her looks as she did so. But again the sorrowful, +tearful expression returned, and again she buried her face in the pillows of +her couch. Gradually, however, her countenance had grown more composed; much of +the suffering manifest on her first appearance had vanished, and a kind of +quiet, hopeful expression had taken its place; which, however, frequently gave +way to an anxious, troubled look, mingled with something of sympathetic pity. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, how fared Cosmo? As might be expected in one of his temperament, his +interest had blossomed into love, and his love—shall I call it +<i>ripened</i>, or—<i>withered</i> into passion. But, alas! he loved a +shadow. He could not come near her, could not speak to her, could not hear a +sound from those sweet lips, to which his longing eyes would cling like bees to +their honey-founts. Ever and anon he sang to himself: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“I shall die for love of the maiden;” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and ever he looked again, and died not, though his heart seemed ready to break +with intensity of life and longing. And the more he did for her, the more he +loved her; and he hoped that, although she never appeared to see him, yet she +was pleased to think that one unknown would give his life to her. He tried to +comfort himself over his separation from her, by thinking that perhaps some day +she would see him and make signs to him, and that would satisfy him; +“for,” thought he, “is not this all that a loving soul can do +to enter into communion with another? Nay, how many who love never come nearer +than to behold each other as in a mirror; seem to know and yet never know the +inward life; never enter the other soul; and part at last, with but the vaguest +notion of the universe on the borders of which they have been hovering for +years? If I could but speak to her, and knew that she heard me, I should be +satisfied.” Once he contemplated painting a picture on the wall, which +should, of necessity, convey to the lady a thought of himself; but, though he +had some skill with the pencil, he found his hand tremble so much when he began +the attempt, that he was forced to give it up. . . . . . +</p> + +<p> +“Who lives, he dies; who dies, he is alive.” +</p> + +<p> +One evening, as he stood gazing on his treasure, he thought he saw a faint +expression of self-consciousness on her countenance, as if she surmised that +passionate eyes were fixed upon her. This grew; till at last the red blood rose +over her neck, and cheek, and brow. Cosmo’s longing to approach her +became almost delirious. This night she was dressed in an evening costume, +resplendent with diamonds. This could add nothing to her beauty, but it +presented it in a new aspect; enabled her loveliness to make a new +manifestation of itself in a new embodiment. For essential beauty is infinite; +and, as the soul of Nature needs an endless succession of varied forms to +embody her loveliness, countless faces of beauty springing forth, not any two +the same, at any one of her heart-throbs; so the individual form needs an +infinite change of its environments, to enable it to uncover all the phases of +its loveliness. Diamonds glittered from amidst her hair, half hidden in its +luxuriance, like stars through dark rain-clouds; and the bracelets on her white +arms flashed all the colours of a rainbow of lightnings, as she lifted her +snowy hands to cover her burning face. But her beauty shone down all its +adornment. “If I might have but one of her feet to kiss,” thought +Cosmo, “I should be content.” Alas! he deceived himself, for +passion is never content. Nor did he know that there are <i>two</i> ways out of +her enchanted house. But, suddenly, as if the pang had been driven into his +heart from without, revealing itself first in pain, and afterwards in definite +form, the thought darted into his mind, “She has a lover somewhere. +Remembered words of his bring the colour on her face now. I am nowhere to her. +She lives in another world all day, and all night, after she leaves me. Why +does she come and make me love her, till I, a strong man, am too faint to look +upon her more?” He looked again, and her face was pale as a lily. A +sorrowful compassion seemed to rebuke the glitter of the restless jewels, and +the slow tears rose in her eyes. She left her room sooner this evening than was +her wont. Cosmo remained alone, with a feeling as if his bosom had been +suddenly left empty and hollow, and the weight of the whole world was crushing +in its walls. The next evening, for the first time since she began to come, she +came not. +</p> + +<p> +And now Cosmo was in wretched plight. Since the thought of a rival had occurred +to him, he could not rest for a moment. More than ever he longed to see the +lady face to face. He persuaded himself that if he but knew the worst he would +be satisfied; for then he could abandon Prague, and find that relief in +constant motion, which is the hope of all active minds when invaded by +distress. Meantime he waited with unspeakable anxiety for the next night, +hoping she would return: but she did not appear. And now he fell really ill. +Rallied by his fellow students on his wretched looks, he ceased to attend the +lectures. His engagements were neglected. He cared for nothing. The sky, with +the great sun in it, was to him a heartless, burning desert. The men and women +in the streets were mere puppets, without motives in themselves, or interest to +him. He saw them all as on the ever-changing field of a <i>camera obscura</i>. +She—she alone and altogether—was his universe, his well of life, +his incarnate good. For six evenings she came not. Let his absorbing passion, +and the slow fever that was consuming his brain, be his excuse for the +resolution which he had taken and begun to execute, before that time had +expired. +</p> + +<p> +Reasoning with himself, that it must be by some enchantment connected with the +mirror, that the form of the lady was to be seen in it, he determined to +attempt to turn to account what he had hitherto studied principally from +curiosity. “For,” said he to himself, “if a spell can force +her presence in that glass (and she came unwillingly at first), may not a +stronger spell, such as I know, especially with the aid of her half-presence in +the mirror, if ever she appears again, compel her living form to come to me +here? If I do her wrong, let love be my excuse. I want only to know my doom +from her own lips.” He never doubted, all the time, that she was a real +earthly woman; or, rather, that there was a woman, who, somehow or other, threw +this reflection of her form into the magic mirror. +</p> + +<p> +He opened his secret drawer, took out his books of magic, lighted his lamp, and +read and made notes from midnight till three in the morning, for three +successive nights. Then he replaced his books; and the next night went out in +quest of the materials necessary for the conjuration. These were not easy to +find; for, in love-charms and all incantations of this nature, ingredients are +employed scarcely fit to be mentioned, and for the thought even of which, in +connexion with her, he could only excuse himself on the score of his bitter +need. At length he succeeded in procuring all he required; and on the seventh +evening from that on which she had last appeared, he found himself prepared for +the exercise of unlawful and tyrannical power. +</p> + +<p> +He cleared the centre of the room; stooped and drew a circle of red on the +floor, around the spot where he stood; wrote in the four quarters mystical +signs, and numbers which were all powers of seven or nine; examined the whole +ring carefully, to see that no smallest break had occurred in the +circumference; and then rose from his bending posture. As he rose, the church +clock struck seven; and, just as she had appeared the first time, reluctant, +slow, and stately, glided in the lady. Cosmo trembled; and when, turning, she +revealed a countenance worn and wan, as with sickness or inward trouble, he +grew faint, and felt as if he dared not proceed. But as he gazed on the face +and form, which now possessed his whole soul, to the exclusion of all other +joys and griefs, the longing to speak to her, to know that she heard him, to +hear from her one word in return, became so unendurable, that he suddenly and +hastily resumed his preparations. Stepping carefully from the circle, he put a +small brazier into its centre. He then set fire to its contents of charcoal, +and while it burned up, opened his window and seated himself, waiting, beside +it. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sultry evening. The air was full of thunder. A sense of luxurious +depression filled the brain. The sky seemed to have grown heavy, and to +compress the air beneath it. A kind of purplish tinge pervaded the atmosphere, +and through the open window came the scents of the distant fields, which all +the vapours of the city could not quench. Soon the charcoal glowed. Cosmo +sprinkled upon it the incense and other substances which he had compounded, +and, stepping within the circle, turned his face from the brazier and towards +the mirror. Then, fixing his eyes upon the face of the lady, he began with a +trembling voice to repeat a powerful incantation. He had not gone far, before +the lady grew pale; and then, like a returning wave, the blood washed all its +banks with its crimson tide, and she hid her face in her hands. Then he passed +to a conjuration stronger yet. +</p> + +<p> +The lady rose and walked uneasily to and fro in her room. Another spell; and +she seemed seeking with her eyes for some object on which they wished to rest. +At length it seemed as if she suddenly espied him; for her eyes fixed +themselves full and wide upon his, and she drew gradually, and somewhat +unwillingly, close to her side of the mirror, just as if his eyes had +fascinated her. Cosmo had never seen her so near before. Now at least, eyes met +eyes; but he could not quite understand the expression of hers. They were full +of tender entreaty, but there was something more that he could not interpret. +Though his heart seemed to labour in his throat, he would allow no delight or +agitation to turn him from his task. Looking still in her face, he passed on to +the mightiest charm he knew. Suddenly the lady turned and walked out of the +door of her reflected chamber. A moment after she entered his room with +veritable presence; and, forgetting all his precautions, he sprang from the +charmed circle, and knelt before her. There she stood, the living lady of his +passionate visions, alone beside him, in a thundery twilight, and the glow of a +magic fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said the lady, with a trembling voice, “didst thou +bring a poor maiden through the rainy streets alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am dying for love of thee; but I only brought thee from the +mirror there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, the mirror!” and she looked up at it, and shuddered. +“Alas! I am but a slave, while that mirror exists. But do not think it +was the power of thy spells that drew me; it was thy longing desire to see me, +that beat at the door of my heart, till I was forced to yield.” +</p> + +<p> +“Canst thou love me then?” said Cosmo, in a voice calm as death, +but almost inarticulate with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” she replied sadly; “that I cannot tell, so +long as I am bewildered with enchantments. It were indeed a joy too great, to +lay my head on thy bosom and weep to death; for I think thou lovest me, though +I do not know;—but——” +</p> + +<p> +Cosmo rose from his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“I love thee as—nay, I know not what—for since I have loved +thee, there is nothing else.” +</p> + +<p> +He seized her hand: she withdrew it. +</p> + +<p> +“No, better not; I am in thy power, and therefore I may not.” +</p> + +<p> +She burst into tears, and kneeling before him in her turn, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Cosmo, if thou lovest me, set me free, even from thyself; break the +mirror.” +</p> + +<p> +“And shall I see thyself instead?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I cannot tell, I will not deceive thee; we may never meet +again.” +</p> + +<p> +A fierce struggle arose in Cosmo’s bosom. Now she was in his power. She +did not dislike him at least; and he could see her when he would. To break the +mirror would be to destroy his very life, to banish out of his universe the +only glory it possessed. The whole world would be but a prison, if he +annihilated the one window that looked into the paradise of love. Not yet pure +in love, he hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +With a wail of sorrow the lady rose to her feet. “Ah! he loves me not; he +loves me not even as I love him; and alas! I care more for his love than even +for the freedom I ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not wait to be willing,” cried Cosmo; and sprang to the +corner where the great sword stood. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime it had grown very dark; only the embers cast a red glow through the +room. He seized the sword by the steel scabbard, and stood before the mirror; +but as he heaved a great blow at it with the heavy pommel, the blade slipped +half-way out of the scabbard, and the pommel struck the wall above the mirror. +At that moment, a terrible clap of thunder seemed to burst in the very room +beside them; and ere Cosmo could repeat the blow, he fell senseless on the +hearth. When he came to himself, he found that the lady and the mirror had both +disappeared. He was seized with a brain fever, which kept him to his couch for +weeks. +</p> + +<p> +When he recovered his reason, he began to think what could have become of the +mirror. For the lady, he hoped she had found her way back as she came; but as +the mirror involved her fate with its own, he was more immediately anxious +about that. He could not think she had carried it away. It was much too heavy, +even if it had not been too firmly fixed in the wall, for her to remove it. +Then again, he remembered the thunder; which made him believe that it was not +the lightning, but some other blow that had struck him down. He concluded that, +either by supernatural agency, he having exposed himself to the vengeance of +the demons in leaving the circle of safety, or in some other mode, the mirror +had probably found its way back to its former owner; and, horrible to think of, +might have been by this time once more disposed of, delivering up the lady into +the power of another man; who, if he used his power no worse than he himself +had done, might yet give Cosmo abundant cause to curse the selfish indecision +which prevented him from shattering the mirror at once. Indeed, to think that +she whom he loved, and who had prayed to him for freedom, should be still at +the mercy, in some degree, of the possessor of the mirror, and was at least +exposed to his constant observation, was in itself enough to madden a chary +lover. +</p> + +<p> +Anxiety to be well retarded his recovery; but at length he was able to creep +abroad. He first made his way to the old broker’s, pretending to be in +search of something else. A laughing sneer on the creature’s face +convinced him that he knew all about it; but he could not see it amongst his +furniture, or get any information out of him as to what had become of it. He +expressed the utmost surprise at hearing it had been stolen, a surprise which +Cosmo saw at once to be counterfeited; while, at the same time, he fancied that +the old wretch was not at all anxious to have it mistaken for genuine. Full of +distress, which he concealed as well as he could, he made many searches, but +with no avail. Of course he could ask no questions; but he kept his ears awake +for any remotest hint that might set him in a direction of search. He never +went out without a short heavy hammer of steel about him, that he might shatter +the mirror the moment he was made happy by the sight of his lost treasure, if +ever that blessed moment should arrive. Whether he should see the lady again, +was now a thought altogether secondary, and postponed to the achievement of her +freedom. He wandered here and there, like an anxious ghost, pale and haggard; +gnawed ever at the heart, by the thought of what she might be +suffering—all from his fault. +</p> + +<p> +One night, he mingled with a crowd that filled the rooms of one of the most +distinguished mansions in the city; for he accepted every invitation, that he +might lose no chance, however poor, of obtaining some information that might +expedite his discovery. Here he wandered about, listening to every stray word +that he could catch, in the hope of a revelation. As he approached some ladies +who were talking quietly in a corner, one said to another: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you heard of the strange illness of the Princess von +Hohenweiss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; she has been ill for more than a year now. It is very sad for so +fine a creature to have such a terrible malady. She was better for some weeks +lately, but within the last few days the same attacks have returned, apparently +accompanied with more suffering than ever. It is altogether an inexplicable +story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a story connected with her illness?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have only heard imperfect reports of it; but it is said that she gave +offence some eighteen months ago to an old woman who had held an office of +trust in the family, and who, after some incoherent threats, disappeared. This +peculiar affection followed soon after. But the strangest part of the story is +its association with the loss of an antique mirror, which stood in her +dressing-room, and of which she constantly made use.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the speaker’s voice sank to a whisper; and Cosmo, although his very +soul sat listening in his ears, could hear no more. He trembled too much to +dare to address the ladies, even if it had been advisable to expose himself to +their curiosity. The name of the Princess was well known to him, but he had +never seen her; except indeed it was she, which now he hardly doubted, who had +knelt before him on that dreadful night. Fearful of attracting attention, for, +from the weak state of his health, he could not recover an appearance of +calmness, he made his way to the open air, and reached his lodgings; glad in +this, that he at least knew where she lived, although he never dreamed of +approaching her openly, even if he should be happy enough to free her from her +hateful bondage. He hoped, too, that as he had unexpectedly learned so much, +the other and far more important part might be revealed to him ere long. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +“Have you seen Steinwald lately?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not seen him for some time. He is almost a match for me at +the rapier, and I suppose he thinks he needs no more lessons.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what has become of him. I want to see him very much. Let me +see; the last time I saw him he was coming out of that old broker’s den, +to which, if you remember, you accompanied me once, to look at some armour. +That is fully three weeks ago.” +</p> + +<p> +This hint was enough for Cosmo. Von Steinwald was a man of influence in the +court, well known for his reckless habits and fierce passions. The very +possibility that the mirror should be in his possession was hell itself to +Cosmo. But violent or hasty measures of any sort were most unlikely to succeed. +All that he wanted was an opportunity of breaking the fatal glass; and to +obtain this he must bide his time. He revolved many plans in his mind, but +without being able to fix upon any. +</p> + +<p> +At length, one evening, as he was passing the house of Von Steinwald, he saw +the windows more than usually brilliant. He watched for a while, and seeing +that company began to arrive, hastened home, and dressed as richly as he could, +in the hope of mingling with the guests unquestioned: in effecting which, there +could be no difficulty for a man of his carriage. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +In a lofty, silent chamber, in another part of the city, lay a form more like +marble than a living woman. The loveliness of death seemed frozen upon her +face, for her lips were rigid, and her eyelids closed. Her long white hands +were crossed over her breast, and no breathing disturbed their repose. Beside +the dead, men speak in whispers, as if the deepest rest of all could be broken +by the sound of a living voice. Just so, though the soul was evidently beyond +the reach of all intimations from the senses, the two ladies, who sat beside +her, spoke in the gentlest tones of subdued sorrow. “She has lain so for +an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“This cannot last long, I fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much thinner she has grown within the last few weeks! If she would +only speak, and explain what she suffers, it would be better for her. I think +she has visions in her trances, but nothing can induce her to refer to them +when she is awake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she ever speak in these trances?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never heard her; but they say she walks sometimes, and once put +the whole household in a terrible fright by disappearing for a whole hour, and +returning drenched with rain, and almost dead with exhaustion and fright. But +even then she would give no account of what had happened.” +</p> + +<p> +A scarce audible murmur from the yet motionless lips of the lady here startled +her attendants. After several ineffectual attempts at articulation, the word +“<i>Cosmo!</i>” burst from her. Then she lay still as before; but +only for a moment. With a wild cry, she sprang from the couch erect on the +floor, flung her arms above her head, with clasped and straining hands, and, +her wide eyes flashing with light, called aloud, with a voice exultant as that +of a spirit bursting from a sepulchre, “I am free! I am free! I thank +thee!” Then she flung herself on the couch, and sobbed; then rose, and +paced wildly up and down the room, with gestures of mingled delight and +anxiety. Then turning to her motionless attendants—“Quick, Lisa, my +cloak and hood!” Then lower—“I must go to him. Make haste, +Lisa! You may come with me, if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +In another moment they were in the street, hurrying along towards one of the +bridges over the Moldau. The moon was near the zenith, and the streets were +almost empty. The Princess soon outstripped her attendant, and was half-way +over the bridge, before the other reached it. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you free, lady? The mirror is broken: are you free?” +</p> + +<p> +The words were spoken close beside her, as she hurried on. She turned; and +there, leaning on the parapet in a recess of the bridge, stood Cosmo, in a +splendid dress, but with a white and quivering face. +</p> + +<p> +“Cosmo!—I am free—and thy servant for ever. I was coming to +you now.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I to you, for Death made me bold; but I could get no further. Have I +atoned at all? Do I love you a little—truly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I know now that you love me, my Cosmo; but what do you say about +death?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not reply. His hand was pressed against his side. She looked more +closely: the blood was welling from between the fingers. She flung her arms +around him with a faint bitter wail. +</p> + +<p> +When Lisa came up, she found her mistress kneeling above a wan dead face, which +smiled on in the spectral moonbeams. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +And now I will say no more about these wondrous volumes; though I could tell +many a tale out of them, and could, perhaps, vaguely represent some entrancing +thoughts of a deeper kind which I found within them. From many a sultry noon +till twilight, did I sit in that grand hall, buried and risen again in these +old books. And I trust I have carried away in my soul some of the exhalations +of their undying leaves. In after hours of deserved or needful sorrow, portions +of what I read there have often come to me again, with an unexpected +comforting; which was not fruitless, even though the comfort might seem in +itself groundless and vain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Your gallery<br/> +Have we pass’d through, not without much content<br/> +In many singularities; but we saw not<br/> +That which my daughter came to look upon,<br/> +The state of her mother.”<br/> + <i>Winter’s Tale</i>. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to me strange, that all this time I had heard no music in the fairy +palace. I was convinced there must be music in it, but that my sense was as yet +too gross to receive the influence of those mysterious motions that beget +sound. Sometimes I felt sure, from the way the few figures of which I got such +transitory glimpses passed me, or glided into vacancy before me, that they were +moving to the law of music; and, in fact, several times I fancied for a moment +that I heard a few wondrous tones coming I knew not whence. But they did not +last long enough to convince me that I had heard them with the bodily sense. +Such as they were, however, they took strange liberties with me, causing me to +burst suddenly into tears, of which there was no presence to make me ashamed, +or casting me into a kind of trance of speechless delight, which, passing as +suddenly, left me faint and longing for more. +</p> + +<p> +Now, on an evening, before I had been a week in the palace, I was wandering +through one lighted arcade and corridor after another. At length I arrived, +through a door that closed behind me, in another vast hall of the palace. It +was filled with a subdued crimson light; by which I saw that slender pillars of +black, built close to walls of white marble, rose to a great height, and then, +dividing into innumerable divergent arches, supported a roof, like the walls, +of white marble, upon which the arches intersected intricately, forming a +fretting of black upon the white, like the network of a skeleton-leaf. The +floor was black. +</p> + +<p> +Between several pairs of the pillars upon every side, the place of the wall +behind was occupied by a crimson curtain of thick silk, hanging in heavy and +rich folds. Behind each of these curtains burned a powerful light, and these +were the sources of the glow that filled the hall. A peculiar delicious odour +pervaded the place. As soon as I entered, the old inspiration seemed to return +to me, for I felt a strong impulse to sing; or rather, it seemed as if some one +else was singing a song in my soul, which wanted to come forth at my lips, +imbodied in my breath. But I kept silence; and feeling somewhat overcome by the +red light and the perfume, as well as by the emotion within me, and seeing at +one end of the hall a great crimson chair, more like a throne than a chair, +beside a table of white marble, I went to it, and, throwing myself in it, gave +myself up to a succession of images of bewildering beauty, which passed before +my inward eye, in a long and occasionally crowded train. Here I sat for hours, +I suppose; till, returning somewhat to myself, I saw that the red light had +paled away, and felt a cool gentle breath gliding over my forehead. I rose and +left the hall with unsteady steps, finding my way with some difficulty to my +own chamber, and faintly remembering, as I went, that only in the marble cave, +before I found the sleeping statue, had I ever had a similar experience. +</p> + +<p> +After this, I repaired every morning to the same hall; where I sometimes sat in +the chair and dreamed deliciously, and sometimes walked up and down over the +black floor. Sometimes I acted within myself a whole drama, during one of these +perambulations; sometimes walked deliberately through the whole epic of a tale; +sometimes ventured to sing a song, though with a shrinking fear of I knew not +what. I was astonished at the beauty of my own voice as it rang through the +place, or rather crept undulating, like a serpent of sound, along the walls and +roof of this superb music-hall. Entrancing verses arose within me as of their +own accord, chanting themselves to their own melodies, and requiring no +addition of music to satisfy the inward sense. But, ever in the pauses of +these, when the singing mood was upon me, I seemed to hear something like the +distant sound of multitudes of dancers, and felt as if it was the unheard +music, moving their rhythmic motion, that within me blossomed in verse and +song. I felt, too, that could I but see the dance, I should, from the harmony +of complicated movements, not of the dancers in relation to each other merely, +but of each dancer individually in the manifested plastic power that moved the +consenting harmonious form, understand the whole of the music on the billows of +which they floated and swung. +</p> + +<p> +At length, one night, suddenly, when this feeling of dancing came upon me, I +bethought me of lifting one of the crimson curtains, and looking if, perchance, +behind it there might not be hid some other mystery, which might at least +remove a step further the bewilderment of the present one. Nor was I altogether +disappointed. I walked to one of the magnificent draperies, lifted a corner, +and peeped in. There, burned a great, crimson, globe-shaped light, high in the +cubical centre of another hall, which might be larger or less than that in +which I stood, for its dimensions were not easily perceived, seeing that floor +and roof and walls were entirely of black marble. +</p> + +<p> +The roof was supported by the same arrangement of pillars radiating in arches, +as that of the first hall; only, here, the pillars and arches were of dark red. +But what absorbed my delighted gaze, was an innumerable assembly of white +marble statues, of every form, and in multitudinous posture, filling the hall +throughout. These stood, in the ruddy glow of the great lamp, upon pedestals of +jet black. Around the lamp shone in golden letters, plainly legible from where +I stood, the two words— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +TOUCH NOT! +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +There was in all this, however, no solution to the sound of dancing; and now I +was aware that the influence on my mind had ceased. I did not go in that +evening, for I was weary and faint, but I hoarded up the expectation of +entering, as of a great coming joy. +</p> + +<p> +Next night I walked, as on the preceding, through the hall. My mind was filled +with pictures and songs, and therewith so much absorbed, that I did not for +some time think of looking within the curtain I had last night lifted. When the +thought of doing so occurred to me first, I happened to be within a few yards +of it. I became conscious, at the same moment, that the sound of dancing had +been for some time in my ears. I approached the curtain quickly, and, lifting +it, entered the black hall. Everything was still as death. I should have +concluded that the sound must have proceeded from some other more distant +quarter, which conclusion its faintness would, in ordinary circumstances, have +necessitated from the first; but there was a something about the statues that +caused me still to remain in doubt. As I said, each stood perfectly still upon +its black pedestal: but there was about every one a certain air, not of motion, +but as if it had just ceased from movement; as if the rest were not altogether +of the marbly stillness of thousands of years. It was as if the peculiar +atmosphere of each had yet a kind of invisible tremulousness; as if its +agitated wavelets had not yet subsided into a perfect calm. I had the suspicion +that they had anticipated my appearance, and had sprung, each, from the living +joy of the dance, to the death-silence and blackness of its isolated pedestal, +just before I entered. I walked across the central hall to the curtain opposite +the one I had lifted, and, entering there, found all the appearances similar; +only that the statues were different, and differently grouped. Neither did they +produce on my mind that impression—of motion just expired, which I had +experienced from the others. I found that behind every one of the crimson +curtains was a similar hall, similarly lighted, and similarly occupied. +</p> + +<p> +The next night, I did not allow my thoughts to be absorbed as before with +inward images, but crept stealthily along to the furthest curtain in the hall, +from behind which, likewise, I had formerly seemed to hear the sound of +dancing. I drew aside its edge as suddenly as I could, and, looking in, saw +that the utmost stillness pervaded the vast place. I walked in, and passed +through it to the other end. +</p> + +<p> +There I found that it communicated with a circular corridor, divided from it +only by two rows of red columns. This corridor, which was black, with red +niches holding statues, ran entirely about the statue-halls, forming a +communication between the further ends of them all; further, that is, as +regards the central hall of white whence they all diverged like radii, finding +their circumference in the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +Round this corridor I now went, entering all the halls, of which there were +twelve, and finding them all similarly constructed, but filled with quite +various statues, of what seemed both ancient and modern sculpture. After I had +simply walked through them, I found myself sufficiently tired to long for rest, +and went to my own room. +</p> + +<p> +In the night I dreamed that, walking close by one of the curtains, I was +suddenly seized with the desire to enter, and darted in. This time I was too +quick for them. All the statues were in motion, statues no longer, but men and +women—all shapes of beauty that ever sprang from the brain of the +sculptor, mingled in the convolutions of a complicated dance. Passing through +them to the further end, I almost started from my sleep on beholding, not +taking part in the dance with the others, nor seemingly endued with life like +them, but standing in marble coldness and rigidity upon a black pedestal in the +extreme left corner—my lady of the cave; the marble beauty who sprang +from her tomb or her cradle at the call of my songs. While I gazed in +speechless astonishment and admiration, a dark shadow, descending from above +like the curtain of a stage, gradually hid her entirely from my view. I felt +with a shudder that this shadow was perchance my missing demon, whom I had not +seen for days. I awoke with a stifled cry. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, the next evening I began my journey through the halls (for I knew +not to which my dream had carried me), in the hope of proving the dream to be a +true one, by discovering my marble beauty upon her black pedestal. At length, +on reaching the tenth hall, I thought I recognised some of the forms I had seen +dancing in my dream; and to my bewilderment, when I arrived at the extreme +corner on the left, there stood, the only one I had yet seen, a vacant +pedestal. It was exactly in the position occupied, in my dream, by the pedestal +on which the white lady stood. Hope beat violently in my heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said I to myself, “if yet another part of the dream +would but come true, and I should succeed in surprising these forms in their +nightly dance; it might be the rest would follow, and I should see on the +pedestal my marble queen. Then surely if my songs sufficed to give her life +before, when she lay in the bonds of alabaster, much more would they be +sufficient then to give her volition and motion, when she alone of assembled +crowds of marble forms, would be standing rigid and cold.” +</p> + +<p> +But the difficulty was, to surprise the dancers. I had found that a +premeditated attempt at surprise, though executed with the utmost care and +rapidity, was of no avail. And, in my dream, it was effected by a sudden +thought suddenly executed. I saw, therefore, that there was no plan of +operation offering any probability of success, but this: to allow my mind to be +occupied with other thoughts, as I wandered around the great centre-hall; and +so wait till the impulse to enter one of the others should happen to arise in +me just at the moment when I was close to one of the crimson curtains. For I +hoped that if I entered any one of the twelve halls at the right moment, that +would as it were give me the right of entrance to all the others, seeing they +all had communication behind. I would not diminish the hope of the right +chance, by supposing it necessary that a desire to enter should awake within +me, precisely when I was close to the curtains of the tenth hall. +</p> + +<p> +At first the impulses to see recurred so continually, in spite of the crowded +imagery that kept passing through my mind, that they formed too nearly a +continuous chain, for the hope that any one of them would succeed as a +surprise. But as I persisted in banishing them, they recurred less and less +often; and after two or three, at considerable intervals, had come when the +spot where I happened to be was unsuitable, the hope strengthened, that soon +one might arise just at the right moment; namely, when, in walking round the +hall, I should be close to one of the curtains. +</p> + +<p> +At length the right moment and the impulse coincided. I darted into the ninth +hall. It was full of the most exquisite moving forms. The whole space wavered +and swam with the involutions of an intricate dance. It seemed to break +suddenly as I entered, and all made one or two bounds towards their pedestals; +but, apparently on finding that they were thoroughly overtaken, they returned +to their employment (for it seemed with them earnest enough to be called such) +without further heeding me. Somewhat impeded by the floating crowd, I made what +haste I could towards the bottom of the hall; whence, entering the corridor, I +turned towards the tenth. I soon arrived at the corner I wanted to reach, for +the corridor was comparatively empty; but, although the dancers here, after a +little confusion, altogether disregarded my presence, I was dismayed at +beholding, even yet, a vacant pedestal. But I had a conviction that she was +near me. And as I looked at the pedestal, I thought I saw upon it, vaguely +revealed as if through overlapping folds of drapery, the indistinct outlines of +white feet. Yet there was no sign of drapery or concealing shadow whatever. But +I remembered the descending shadow in my dream. And I hoped still in the power +of my songs; thinking that what could dispel alabaster, might likewise be +capable of dispelling what concealed my beauty now, even if it were the demon +whose darkness had overshadowed all my life. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“<i>Alexander</i>. ‘When will you finish Campaspe?’<br/> +<i>Apelles</i>. ‘Never finish: for always in absolute beauty there is +somewhat above art.’”<br/> + L<small>YLY</small>’S <i>Campaspe</i>. +</p> + +<p> +And now, what song should I sing to unveil my Isis, if indeed she was present +unseen? I hurried away to the white hall of Phantasy, heedless of the +innumerable forms of beauty that crowded my way: these might cross my eyes, but +the unseen filled my brain. I wandered long, up and down the silent space: no +songs came. My soul was not still enough for songs. Only in the silence and +darkness of the soul’s night, do those stars of the inward firmament sink +to its lower surface from the singing realms beyond, and shine upon the +conscious spirit. Here all effort was unavailing. If they came not, they could +not be found. +</p> + +<p> +Next night, it was just the same. I walked through the red glimmer of the +silent hall; but lonely as there I walked, as lonely trod my soul up and down +the halls of the brain. At last I entered one of the statue-halls. The dance +had just commenced, and I was delighted to find that I was free of their +assembly. I walked on till I came to the sacred corner. There I found the +pedestal just as I had left it, with the faint glimmer as of white feet still +resting on the dead black. As soon as I saw it, I seemed to feel a presence +which longed to become visible; and, as it were, called to me to gift it with +self-manifestation, that it might shine on me. The power of song came to me. +But the moment my voice, though I sang low and soft, stirred the air of the +hall, the dancers started; the quick interweaving crowd shook, lost its form, +divided; each figure sprang to its pedestal, and stood, a self-evolving life no +more, but a rigid, life-like, marble shape, with the whole form composed into +the expression of a single state or act. Silence rolled like a spiritual +thunder through the grand space. My song had ceased, scared at its own +influences. But I saw in the hand of one of the statues close by me, a harp +whose chords yet quivered. I remembered that as she bounded past me, her harp +had brushed against my arm; so the spell of the marble had not infolded it. I +sprang to her, and with a gesture of entreaty, laid my hand on the harp. The +marble hand, probably from its contact with the uncharmed harp, had strength +enough to relax its hold, and yield the harp to me. No other motion indicated +life. Instinctively I struck the chords and sang. And not to break upon the +record of my song, I mention here, that as I sang the first four lines, the +loveliest feet became clear upon the black pedestal; and ever as I sang, it was +as if a veil were being lifted up from before the form, but an invisible veil, +so that the statue appeared to grow before me, not so much by evolution, as by +infinitesimal degrees of added height. And, while I sang, I did not feel that I +stood by a statue, as indeed it appeared to be, but that a real woman-soul was +revealing itself by successive stages of imbodiment, and consequent +manifestatlon and expression. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Feet of beauty, firmly planting<br/> + Arches white on rosy heel!<br/> +Whence the life-spring, throbbing, panting,<br/> + Pulses upward to reveal!<br/> +Fairest things know least despising;<br/> + Foot and earth meet tenderly:<br/> +‘Tis the woman, resting, rising<br/> + Upward to sublimity,<br/> +<br/> +Rise the limbs, sedately sloping,<br/> + Strong and gentle, full and free;<br/> +Soft and slow, like certain hoping,<br/> + Drawing nigh the broad firm knee.<br/> +Up to speech! As up to roses<br/> + Pants the life from leaf to flower,<br/> +So each blending change discloses,<br/> + Nearer still, expression’s power.<br/> +<br/> +Lo! fair sweeps, white surges, twining<br/> + Up and outward fearlessly!<br/> +Temple columns, close combining,<br/> + Lift a holy mystery.<br/> +Heart of mine! what strange surprises<br/> + Mount aloft on such a stair!<br/> +Some great vision upward rises,<br/> + Curving, bending, floating fair.<br/> +<br/> +Bands and sweeps, and hill and hollow<br/> + Lead my fascinated eye;<br/> +Some apocalypse will follow,<br/> + Some new world of deity.<br/> +Zoned unseen, and outward swelling,<br/> + With new thoughts and wonders rife,<br/> +Queenly majesty foretelling,<br/> + See the expanding house of life!<br/> +<br/> +Sudden heaving, unforbidden<br/> + Sighs eternal, still the same—<br/> +Mounts of snow have summits hidden<br/> + In the mists of uttered flame.<br/> +But the spirit, dawning nearly<br/> + Finds no speech for earnest pain;<br/> +Finds a soundless sighing merely—<br/> + Builds its stairs, and mounts again.<br/> +<br/> +Heart, the queen, with secret hoping,<br/> + Sendeth out her waiting pair;<br/> +Hands, blind hands, half blindly groping,<br/> + Half inclasping visions rare;<br/> +And the great arms, heartways bending;<br/> + Might of Beauty, drawing home<br/> +There returning, and re-blending,<br/> + Where from roots of love they roam.<br/> +<br/> +Build thy slopes of radiance beamy<br/> + Spirit, fair with womanhood!<br/> +Tower thy precipice, white-gleamy,<br/> + Climb unto the hour of good.<br/> +Dumb space will be rent asunder,<br/> + Now the shining column stands<br/> +Ready to be crowned with wonder<br/> + By the builder’s joyous hands.<br/> +<br/> +All the lines abroad are spreading,<br/> + Like a fountain’s falling race.<br/> +Lo, the chin, first feature, treading,<br/> + Airy foot to rest the face!<br/> +Speech is nigh; oh, see the blushing,<br/> + Sweet approach of lip and breath!<br/> +Round the mouth dim silence, hushing,<br/> + Waits to die ecstatic death.<br/> +<br/> +Span across in treble curving,<br/> + Bow of promise, upper lip!<br/> +Set them free, with gracious swerving;<br/> + Let the wing-words float and dip.<br/> +<i>Dumb art thou?</i> O Love immortal,<br/> + More than words thy speech must be;<br/> +Childless yet the tender portal<br/> + Of the home of melody.<br/> +<br/> +Now the nostrils open fearless,<br/> + Proud in calm unconsciousness,<br/> +Sure it must be something peerless<br/> + That the great Pan would express!<br/> +Deepens, crowds some meaning tender,<br/> + In the pure, dear lady-face.<br/> +Lo, a blinding burst of splendour!—<br/> + ’Tis the free soul’s issuing grace.<br/> +<br/> +Two calm lakes of molten glory<br/> + Circling round unfathomed deeps!<br/> +Lightning-flashes, transitory,<br/> + Cross the gulfs where darkness sleeps.<br/> +This the gate, at last, of gladness,<br/> + To the outward striving <i>me</i>:<br/> +In a rain of light and sadness,<br/> + Out its loves and longings flee!<br/> +<br/> +With a presence I am smitten<br/> + Dumb, with a foreknown surprise;<br/> +Presence greater yet than written<br/> + Even in the glorious eyes.<br/> +Through the gulfs, with inward gazes,<br/> + I may look till I am lost;<br/> +Wandering deep in spirit-mazes,<br/> + In a sea without a coast.<br/> +<br/> +Windows open to the glorious!<br/> + Time and space, oh, far beyond!<br/> +Woman, ah! thou art victorious,<br/> + And I perish, overfond.<br/> +Springs aloft the yet Unspoken<br/> + In the forehead’s endless grace,<br/> +Full of silences unbroken;<br/> + Infinite, unfeatured face.<br/> +<br/> +Domes above, the mount of wonder;<br/> + Height and hollow wrapt in night;<br/> +Hiding in its caverns under<br/> + Woman-nations in their might.<br/> +Passing forms, the highest Human<br/> + Faints away to the Divine<br/> +Features none, of man or woman,<br/> + Can unveil the holiest shine.<br/> +<br/> +Sideways, grooved porches only<br/> + Visible to passing eye,<br/> +Stand the silent, doorless, lonely<br/> + Entrance-gates of melody.<br/> +But all sounds fly in as boldly,<br/> + Groan and song, and kiss and cry<br/> +At their galleries, lifted coldly,<br/> + Darkly, ‘twixt the earth and sky.<br/> +<br/> +Beauty, thou art spent, thou knowest<br/> + So, in faint, half-glad despair,<br/> +From the summit thou o’erflowest<br/> + In a fall of torrent hair;<br/> +Hiding what thou hast created<br/> + In a half-transparent shroud:<br/> +Thus, with glory soft-abated,<br/> + Shines the moon through vapoury cloud. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ev’n the Styx, which ninefold her infoldeth<br/> + Hems not Ceres’ daughter in its flow;<br/> +But she grasps the apple—ever holdeth<br/> + Her, sad Orcus, down below.”<br/> + S<small>CHILLER</small>, <i>Das Ideal und das Leben</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Ever as I sang, the veil was uplifted; ever as I sang, the signs of life grew; +till, when the eyes dawned upon me, it was with that sunrise of splendour which +my feeble song attempted to re-imbody. +</p> + +<p> +The wonder is, that I was not altogether overcome, but was able to complete my +song as the unseen veil continued to rise. This ability came solely from the +state of mental elevation in which I found myself. Only because uplifted in +song, was I able to endure the blaze of the dawn. But I cannot tell whether she +looked more of statue or more of woman; she seemed removed into that region of +phantasy where all is intensely vivid, but nothing clearly defined. At last, as +I sang of her descending hair, the glow of soul faded away, like a dying +sunset. A lamp within had been extinguished, and the house of life shone blank +in a winter morn. She was a statue once more—but visible, and that was +much gained. Yet the revulsion from hope and fruition was such, that, unable to +restrain myself, I sprang to her, and, in defiance of the law of the place, +flung my arms around her, as if I would tear her from the grasp of a visible +Death, and lifted her from the pedestal down to my heart. But no sooner had her +feet ceased to be in contact with the black pedestal, than she shuddered and +trembled all over; then, writhing from my arms, before I could tighten their +hold, she sprang into the corridor, with the reproachful cry, “You should +not have touched me!” darted behind one of the exterior pillars of the +circle, and disappeared. I followed almost as fast; but ere I could reach the +pillar, the sound of a closing door, the saddest of all sounds sometimes, fell +on my ear; and, arriving at the spot where she had vanished, I saw, lighted by +a pale yellow lamp which hung above it, a heavy, rough door, altogether unlike +any others I had seen in the palace; for they were all of ebony, or ivory, or +covered with silver-plates, or of some odorous wood, and very ornate; whereas +this seemed of old oak, with heavy nails and iron studs. Notwithstanding the +precipitation of my pursuit, I could not help reading, in silver letters +beneath the lamp: “<i>No one enters here without the leave of the +Queen</i>.” But what was the Queen to me, when I followed my white lady? +I dashed the door to the wall and sprang through. Lo! I stood on a waste windy +hill. Great stones like tombstones stood all about me. No door, no palace was +to be seen. A white figure gleamed past me, wringing her hands, and crying, +“Ah! you should have sung to me; you should have sung to me!” and +disappeared behind one of the stones. I followed. A cold gust of wind met me +from behind the stone; and when I looked, I saw nothing but a great hole in the +earth, into which I could find no way of entering. Had she fallen in? I could +not tell. I must wait for the daylight. I sat down and wept, for there was no +help. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“First, I thought, almost despairing,<br/> + This must crush my spirit now;<br/> +Yet I bore it, and am bearing—<br/> + Only do not ask me how.”<br/> + H<small>EINE</small>. +</p> + +<p> +When the daylight came, it brought the possibility of action, but with it +little of consolation. With the first visible increase of light, I gazed into +the chasm, but could not, for more than an hour, see sufficiently well to +discover its nature. At last I saw it was almost a perpendicular opening, like +a roughly excavated well, only very large. I could perceive no bottom; and it +was not till the sun actually rose, that I discovered a sort of natural +staircase, in many parts little more than suggested, which led round and round +the gulf, descending spirally into its abyss. I saw at once that this was my +path; and without a moment’s hesitation, glad to quit the sunlight, which +stared at me most heartlessly, I commenced my tortuous descent. It was very +difficult. In some parts I had to cling to the rocks like a bat. In one place, +I dropped from the track down upon the next returning spire of the stair; which +being broad in this particular portion, and standing out from the wall at right +angles, received me upon my feet safe, though somewhat stupefied by the shock. +After descending a great way, I found the stair ended at a narrow opening which +entered the rock horizontally. Into this I crept, and, having entered, had just +room to turn round. I put my head out into the shaft by which I had come down, +and surveyed the course of my descent. Looking up, I saw the stars; although +the sun must by this time have been high in the heavens. Looking below, I saw +that the sides of the shaft went sheer down, smooth as glass; and far beneath +me, I saw the reflection of the same stars I had seen in the heavens when I +looked up. I turned again, and crept inwards some distance, when the passage +widened, and I was at length able to stand and walk upright. Wider and loftier +grew the way; new paths branched off on every side; great open halls appeared; +till at last I found myself wandering on through an underground country, in +which the sky was of rock, and instead of trees and flowers, there were only +fantastic rocks and stones. And ever as I went, darker grew my thoughts, till +at last I had no hope whatever of finding the white lady: I no longer called +her to myself <i>my</i> white lady. Whenever a choice was necessary, I always +chose the path which seemed to lead downwards. +</p> + +<p> +At length I began to find that these regions were inhabited. From behind a rock +a peal of harsh grating laughter, full of evil humour, rang through my ears, +and, looking round, I saw a queer, goblin creature, with a great head and +ridiculous features, just such as those described, in German histories and +travels, as Kobolds. “What do you want with me?” I said. He pointed +at me with a long forefinger, very thick at the root, and sharpened to a point, +and answered, “He! he! he! what do <i>you</i> want here?” Then, +changing his tone, he continued, with mock humility—“Honoured sir, +vouchsafe to withdraw from thy slaves the lustre of thy august presence, for +thy slaves cannot support its brightness.” A second appeared, and struck +in: “You are so big, you keep the sun from us. We can’t see for +you, and we’re so cold.” Thereupon arose, on all sides, the most +terrific uproar of laughter, from voices like those of children in volume, but +scrannel and harsh as those of decrepit age, though, unfortunately, without its +weakness. The whole pandemonium of fairy devils, of all varieties of fantastic +ugliness, both in form and feature, and of all sizes from one to four feet, +seemed to have suddenly assembled about me. At length, after a great babble of +talk among themselves, in a language unknown to me, and after seemingly endless +gesticulation, consultation, elbow-nudging, and unmitigated peals of laughter, +they formed into a circle about one of their number, who scrambled upon a +stone, and, much to my surprise, and somewhat to my dismay, began to sing, in a +voice corresponding in its nature to his talking one, from beginning to end, +the song with which I had brought the light into the eyes of the white lady. He +sang the same air too; and, all the time, maintained a face of mock entreaty +and worship; accompanying the song with the travestied gestures of one playing +on the lute. The whole assembly kept silence, except at the close of every +verse, when they roared, and danced, and shouted with laughter, and flung +themselves on the ground, in real or pretended convulsions of delight. When he +had finished, the singer threw himself from the top of the stone, turning heels +over head several times in his descent; and when he did alight, it was on the +top of his head, on which he hopped about, making the most grotesque +gesticulations with his legs in the air. Inexpressible laughter followed, which +broke up in a shower of tiny stones from innumerable hands. They could not +materially injure me, although they cut me on the head and face. I attempted to +run away, but they all rushed upon me, and, laying hold of every part that +afforded a grasp, held me tight. Crowding about me like bees, they shouted an +insect-swarm of exasperating speeches up into my face, among which the most +frequently recurring were—“You shan’t have her; you +shan’t have her; he! he! he! She’s for a better man; how +he’ll kiss her! how he’ll kiss her!” +</p> + +<p> +The galvanic torrent of this battery of malevolence stung to life within me a +spark of nobleness, and I said aloud, “Well, if he is a better man, let +him have her.” +</p> + +<p> +They instantly let go their hold of me, and fell back a step or two, with a +whole broadside of grunts and humphs, as of unexpected and disappointed +approbation. I made a step or two forward, and a lane was instantly opened for +me through the midst of the grinning little antics, who bowed most politely to +me on every side as I passed. After I had gone a few yards, I looked back, and +saw them all standing quite still, looking after me, like a great school of +boys; till suddenly one turned round, and with a loud whoop, rushed into the +midst of the others. In an instant, the whole was one writhing and tumbling +heap of contortion, reminding me of the live pyramids of intertwined snakes of +which travellers make report. As soon as one was worked out of the mass, he +bounded off a few paces, and then, with a somersault and a run, threw himself +gyrating into the air, and descended with all his weight on the summit of the +heaving and struggling chaos of fantastic figures. I left them still busy at +this fierce and apparently aimless amusement. And as I went, I sang— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +If a nobler waits for thee,<br/> + I will weep aside;<br/> +It is well that thou should’st be,<br/> + Of the nobler, bride.<br/> +<br/> +For if love builds up the home,<br/> + Where the heart is free,<br/> +Homeless yet the heart must roam,<br/> + That has not found thee.<br/> +<br/> +One must suffer: I, for her<br/> + Yield in her my part<br/> +Take her, thou art worthier—<br/> + Still I be still, my heart!<br/> +<br/> +Gift ungotten! largess high<br/> + Of a frustrate will!<br/> +But to yield it lovingly<br/> + Is a something still. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Then a little song arose of itself in my soul; and I felt for the moment, while +it sank sadly within me, as if I was once more walking up and down the white +hall of Phantasy in the Fairy Palace. But this lasted no longer than the song; +as will be seen. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Do not vex thy violet<br/> + Perfume to afford:<br/> +Else no odour thou wilt get<br/> + From its little hoard.<br/> +<br/> +In thy lady’s gracious eyes<br/> + Look not thou too long;<br/> +Else from them the glory flies,<br/> + And thou dost her wrong.<br/> +<br/> +Come not thou too near the maid,<br/> + Clasp her not too wild;<br/> +Else the splendour is allayed,<br/> + And thy heart beguiled. +</p> + +<p> +A crash of laughter, more discordant and deriding than any I had yet heard, +invaded my ears. Looking on in the direction of the sound, I saw a little +elderly woman, much taller, however, than the goblins I had just left, seated +upon a stone by the side of the path. She rose, as I drew near, and came +forward to meet me. +</p> + +<p> +She was very plain and commonplace in appearance, without being hideously ugly. +Looking up in my face with a stupid sneer, she said: “Isn’t it a +pity you haven’t a pretty girl to walk all alone with you through this +sweet country? How different everything would look? wouldn’t it? Strange +that one can never have what one would like best! How the roses would bloom and +all that, even in this infernal hole! wouldn’t they, Anodos? Her eyes +would light up the old cave, wouldn’t they?” +</p> + +<p> +“That depends on who the pretty girl should be,” replied I. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so very much matter that,” she answered; “look +here.” +</p> + +<p> +I had turned to go away as I gave my reply, but now I stopped and looked at +her. As a rough unsightly bud might suddenly blossom into the most lovely +flower; or rather, as a sunbeam bursts through a shapeless cloud, and +transfigures the earth; so burst a face of resplendent beauty, as it were +<i>through</i> the unsightly visage of the woman, destroying it with light as +it dawned through it. A summer sky rose above me, gray with heat; across a +shining slumberous landscape, looked from afar the peaks of snow-capped +mountains; and down from a great rock beside me fell a sheet of water mad with +its own delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay with me,” she said, lifting up her exquisite face, and +looking full in mine. +</p> + +<p> +I drew back. Again the infernal laugh grated upon my ears; again the rocks +closed in around me, and the ugly woman looked at me with wicked, mocking hazel +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have your reward,” said she. “You shall see your +white lady again.” +</p> + +<p> +“That lies not with you,” I replied, and turned and left her. +</p> + +<p> +She followed me with shriek upon shriek of laughter, as I went on my way. +</p> + +<p> +I may mention here, that although there was always light enough to see my path +and a few yards on every side of me, I never could find out the source of this +sad sepulchral illumination. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“In the wind’s uproar, the sea’s raging grim,<br/> +And the sighs that are born in him.”<br/> + H<small>EINE</small>. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“From dreams of bliss shall men awake<br/> +One day, but not to weep:<br/> +The dreams remain; they only break<br/> +The mirror of the sleep.”<br/> + J<small>EAN</small> P<small>AUL</small>, <i>Hesperus</i>. +</p> + +<p> +How I got through this dreary part of my travels, I do not know. I do not think +I was upheld by the hope that any moment the light might break in upon me; for +I scarcely thought about that. I went on with a dull endurance, varied by +moments of uncontrollable sadness; for more and more the conviction grew upon +me that I should never see the white lady again. It may seem strange that one +with whom I had held so little communion should have so engrossed my thoughts; +but benefits conferred awaken love in some minds, as surely as benefits +received in others. Besides being delighted and proud that <i>my</i> songs had +called the beautiful creature to life, the same fact caused me to feel a +tenderness unspeakable for her, accompanied with a kind of feeling of property +in her; for so the goblin Selfishness would reward the angel Love. When to all +this is added, an overpowering sense of her beauty, and an unquestioning +conviction that this was a true index to inward loveliness, it may be +understood how it came to pass that my imagination filled my whole soul with +the play of its own multitudinous colours and harmonies around the form which +yet stood, a gracious marble radiance, in the midst of <i>its</i> white hall of +phantasy. The time passed by unheeded; for my thoughts were busy. Perhaps this +was also in part the cause of my needing no food, and never thinking how I +should find any, during this subterraneous part of my travels. How long they +endured I could not tell, for I had no means of measuring time; and when I +looked back, there was such a discrepancy between the decisions of my +imagination and my judgment, as to the length of time that had passed, that I +was bewildered, and gave up all attempts to arrive at any conclusion on the +point. +</p> + +<p> +A gray mist continually gathered behind me. When I looked back towards the +past, this mist was the medium through which my eyes had to strain for a vision +of what had gone by; and the form of the white lady had receded into an unknown +region. At length the country of rock began to close again around me, gradually +and slowly narrowing, till I found myself walking in a gallery of rock once +more, both sides of which I could touch with my outstretched hands. It narrowed +yet, until I was forced to move carefully, in order to avoid striking against +the projecting pieces of rock. The roof sank lower and lower, until I was +compelled, first to stoop, and then to creep on my hands and knees. It recalled +terrible dreams of childhood; but I was not much afraid, because I felt sure +that this was my path, and my only hope of leaving Fairy Land, of which I was +now almost weary. +</p> + +<p> +At length, on getting past an abrupt turn in the passage, through which I had +to force myself, I saw, a few yards ahead of me, the long-forgotten daylight +shining through a small opening, to which the path, if path it could now be +called, led me. With great difficulty I accomplished these last few yards, and +came forth to the day. I stood on the shore of a wintry sea, with a wintry sun +just a few feet above its horizon-edge. It was bare, and waste, and gray. +Hundreds of hopeless waves rushed constantly shorewards, falling exhausted upon +a beach of great loose stones, that seemed to stretch miles and miles in both +directions. There was nothing for the eye but mingling shades of gray; nothing +for the ear but the rush of the coming, the roar of the breaking, and the moan +of the retreating wave. No rock lifted up a sheltering severity above the +dreariness around; even that from which I had myself emerged rose scarcely a +foot above the opening by which I had reached the dismal day, more dismal even +than the tomb I had left. A cold, death-like wind swept across the shore, +seeming to issue from a pale mouth of cloud upon the horizon. Sign of life was +nowhere visible. I wandered over the stones, up and down the beach, a human +imbodiment of the nature around me. The wind increased; its keen waves flowed +through my soul; the foam rushed higher up the stones; a few dead stars began +to gleam in the east; the sound of the waves grew louder and yet more +despairing. A dark curtain of cloud was lifted up, and a pale blue rent shone +between its foot and the edge of the sea, out from which rushed an icy storm of +frozen wind, that tore the waters into spray as it passed, and flung the +billows in raving heaps upon the desolate shore. I could bear it no longer. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not be tortured to death,” I cried; “I will meet it +half-way. The life within me is yet enough to bear me up to the face of Death, +and then I die unconquered.” +</p> + +<p> +Before it had grown so dark, I had observed, though without any particular +interest, that on one part of the shore a low platform of rock seemed to run +out far into the midst of the breaking waters. +</p> + +<p> +Towards this I now went, scrambling over smooth stones, to which scarce even a +particle of sea-weed clung; and having found it, I got on it, and followed its +direction, as near as I could guess, out into the tumbling chaos. I could +hardly keep my feet against the wind and sea. The waves repeatedly all but +swept me off my path; but I kept on my way, till I reached the end of the low +promontory, which, in the fall of the waves, rose a good many feet above the +surface, and, in their rise, was covered with their waters. I stood one moment +and gazed into the heaving abyss beneath me; then plunged headlong into the +mounting wave below. A blessing, like the kiss of a mother, seemed to alight on +my soul; a calm, deeper than that which accompanies a hope deferred, bathed my +spirit. I sank far into the waters, and sought not to return. I felt as if once +more the great arms of the beech-tree were around me, soothing me after the +miseries I had passed through, and telling me, like a little sick child, that I +should be better to-morrow. The waters of themselves lifted me, as with loving +arms, to the surface. I breathed again, but did not unclose my eyes. I would +not look on the wintry sea, and the pitiless gray sky. Thus I floated, till +something gently touched me. It was a little boat floating beside me. How it +came there I could not tell; but it rose and sank on the waters, and kept +touching me in its fall, as if with a human will to let me know that help was +by me. It was a little gay-coloured boat, seemingly covered with glistering +scales like those of a fish, all of brilliant rainbow hues. I scrambled into +it, and lay down in the bottom, with a sense of exquisite repose. +</p> + +<p> +Then I drew over me a rich, heavy, purple cloth that was beside me; and, lying +still, knew, by the sound of the waters, that my little bark was fleeting +rapidly onwards. Finding, however, none of that stormy motion which the sea had +manifested when I beheld it from the shore, I opened my eyes; and, looking +first up, saw above me the deep violet sky of a warm southern night; and then, +lifting my head, saw that I was sailing fast upon a summer sea, in the last +border of a southern twilight. The aureole of the sun yet shot the extreme +faint tips of its longest rays above the horizon-waves, and withdrew them not. +It was a perpetual twilight. The stars, great and earnest, like +children’s eyes, bent down lovingly towards the waters; and the reflected +stars within seemed to float up, as if longing to meet their embraces. But when +I looked down, a new wonder met my view. For, vaguely revealed beneath the +wave, I floated above my whole Past. The fields of my childhood flitted by; the +halls of my youthful labours; the streets of great cities where I had dwelt; +and the assemblies of men and women wherein I had wearied myself seeking for +rest. But so indistinct were the visions, that sometimes I thought I was +sailing on a shallow sea, and that strange rocks and forests of sea-plants +beguiled my eye, sufficiently to be transformed, by the magic of the phantasy, +into well-known objects and regions. Yet, at times, a beloved form seemed to +lie close beneath me in sleep; and the eyelids would tremble as if about to +forsake the conscious eye; and the arms would heave upwards, as if in dreams +they sought for a satisfying presence. But these motions might come only from +the heaving of the waters between those forms and me. Soon I fell asleep, +overcome with fatigue and delight. In dreams of unspeakable joy—of +restored friendships; of revived embraces; of love which said it had never +died; of faces that had vanished long ago, yet said with smiling lips that they +knew nothing of the grave; of pardons implored, and granted with such bursting +floods of love, that I was almost glad I had sinned—thus I passed through +this wondrous twilight. I awoke with the feeling that I had been kissed and +loved to my heart’s content; and found that my boat was floating +motionless by the grassy shore of a little island. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“In still rest, in changeless simplicity, I bear,<br/> +uninterrupted, the consciousness of the whole of Humanity within me.”<br/> + S<small>CHLEIERMACHER</small>, <i>Monologen</i>.<br/> +<br/> +“... such a sweetness, such a grace,<br/> + In all thy speech appear,<br/> +That what to th’eye a beauteous face,<br/> + That thy tongue is to the ear.”<br/> + C<small>OWLEY</small>. +</p> + +<p> +The water was deep to the very edge; and I sprang from the little boat upon a +soft grassy turf. The island seemed rich with a profusion of all grasses and +low flowers. All delicate lowly things were most plentiful; but no trees rose +skywards, not even a bush overtopped the tall grasses, except in one place near +the cottage I am about to describe, where a few plants of the gum-cistus, which +drops every night all the blossoms that the day brings forth, formed a kind of +natural arbour. The whole island lay open to the sky and sea. It rose nowhere +more than a few feet above the level of the waters, which flowed deep all +around its border. Here there seemed to be neither tide nor storm. A sense of +persistent calm and fulness arose in the mind at the sight of the slow, +pulse-like rise and fall of the deep, clear, unrippled waters against the bank +of the island, for shore it could hardly be called, being so much more like the +edge of a full, solemn river. As I walked over the grass towards the cottage, +which stood at a little distance from the bank, all the flowers of childhood +looked at me with perfect child-eyes out of the grass. My heart, softened by +the dreams through which it had passed, overflowed in a sad, tender love +towards them. They looked to me like children impregnably fortified in a +helpless confidence. The sun stood half-way down the western sky, shining very +soft and golden; and there grew a second world of shadows amidst the world of +grasses and wild flowers. +</p> + +<p> +The cottage was square, with low walls, and a high pyramidal roof thatched with +long reeds, of which the withered blossoms hung over all the eaves. It is +noticeable that most of the buildings I saw in Fairy Land were cottages. There +was no path to a door, nor, indeed, was there any track worn by footsteps in +the island. +</p> + +<p> +The cottage rose right out of the smooth turf. It had no windows that I could +see; but there was a door in the centre of the side facing me, up to which I +went. I knocked, and the sweetest voice I had ever heard said, “Come +in.” I entered. A bright fire was burning on a hearth in the centre of +the earthern floor, and the smoke found its way out at an opening in the centre +of the pyramidal roof. Over the fire hung a little pot, and over the pot bent a +woman-face, the most wonderful, I thought, that I had ever beheld. For it was +older than any countenance I had ever looked upon. There was not a spot in +which a wrinkle could lie, where a wrinkle lay not. And the skin was ancient +and brown, like old parchment. The woman’s form was tall and spare: and +when she stood up to welcome me, I saw that she was straight as an arrow. Could +that voice of sweetness have issued from those lips of age? Mild as they were, +could they be the portals whence flowed such melody? But the moment I saw her +eyes, I no longer wondered at her voice: they were absolutely young—those +of a woman of five-and-twenty, large, and of a clear gray. Wrinkles had beset +them all about; the eyelids themselves were old, and heavy, and worn; but the +eyes were very incarnations of soft light. She held out her hand to me, and the +voice of sweetness again greeted me, with the single word, +“Welcome.” She set an old wooden chair for me, near the fire, and +went on with her cooking. A wondrous sense of refuge and repose came upon me. I +felt like a boy who has got home from school, miles across the hills, through a +heavy storm of wind and snow. Almost, as I gazed on her, I sprang from my seat +to kiss those old lips. And when, having finished her cooking, she brought some +of the dish she had prepared, and set it on a little table by me, covered with +a snow-white cloth, I could not help laying my head on her bosom, and bursting +into happy tears. She put her arms round me, saying, “Poor child; poor +child!” +</p> + +<p> +As I continued to weep, she gently disengaged herself, and, taking a spoon, put +some of the food (I did not know what it was) to my lips, entreating me most +endearingly to swallow it. To please her, I made an effort, and succeeded. She +went on feeding me like a baby, with one arm round me, till I looked up in her +face and smiled: then she gave me the spoon and told me to eat, for it would do +me good. I obeyed her, and found myself wonderfully refreshed. Then she drew +near the fire an old-fashioned couch that was in the cottage, and making me lie +down upon it, sat at my feet, and began to sing. Amazing store of old ballads +rippled from her lips, over the pebbles of ancient tunes; and the voice that +sang was sweet as the voice of a tuneful maiden that singeth ever from very +fulness of song. The songs were almost all sad, but with a sound of comfort. +One I can faintly recall. It was something like this: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Sir Aglovaile through the churchyard rode;<br/> + <i>Sing, All alone I lie:</i><br/> +Little recked he where’er he yode,<br/> + <i>All alone, up in the sky</i>.<br/> +<br/> +Swerved his courser, and plunged with fear<br/> + <i>All alone I lie:</i><br/> +His cry might have wakened the dead men near,<br/> + <i>All alone, up in the sky</i>.<br/> +<br/> +The very dead that lay at his feet,<br/> +Lapt in the mouldy winding-sheet.<br/> +<br/> +But he curbed him and spurred him, until he stood<br/> +Still in his place, like a horse of wood,<br/> +<br/> +With nostrils uplift, and eyes wide and wan;<br/> +But the sweat in streams from his fetlocks ran.<br/> +<br/> +A ghost grew out of the shadowy air,<br/> +And sat in the midst of her moony hair.<br/> +<br/> +In her gleamy hair she sat and wept;<br/> +In the dreamful moon they lay and slept;<br/> +<br/> +The shadows above, and the bodies below,<br/> +Lay and slept in the moonbeams slow.<br/> +<br/> +And she sang, like the moan of an autumn wind<br/> +Over the stubble left behind:<br/> +<br/> +<i>Alas, how easily things go wrong!<br/> +A sigh too much, or a kiss too long,<br/> +And there follows a mist and a weeping rain,<br/> +And life is never the same again.<br/> +<br/> +Alas, how hardly things go right!<br/> +‘Tis hard to watch on a summer night,<br/> +For the sigh will come and the kiss will stay,<br/> +And the summer night is a winter day.</i><br/> +<br/> +“Oh, lovely ghosts my heart is woes<br/> +To see thee weeping and wailing so.<br/> +<br/> +Oh, lovely ghost,” said the fearless knight,<br/> +“Can the sword of a warrior set it right?<br/> +<br/> +Or prayer of bedesman, praying mild,<br/> +As a cup of water a feverish child,<br/> +<br/> +Sooth thee at last, in dreamless mood<br/> +To sleep the sleep a dead lady should?<br/> +<br/> +Thine eyes they fill me with longing sore,<br/> +As if I had known thee for evermore.<br/> +<br/> +Oh, lovely ghost, I could leave the day<br/> +To sit with thee in the moon away<br/> +<br/> +If thou wouldst trust me, and lay thy head<br/> +To rest on a bosom that is not dead.”<br/> +The lady sprang up with a strange ghost-cry,<br/> +And she flung her white ghost-arms on high:<br/> +<br/> +And she laughed a laugh that was not gay,<br/> +And it lengthened out till it died away;<br/> +<br/> +And the dead beneath turned and moaned,<br/> +And the yew-trees above they shuddered and groaned.<br/> +<br/> +“Will he love me twice with a love that is vain?<br/> +Will he kill the poor ghost yet again?<br/> +<br/> +I thought thou wert good; but I said, and wept:<br/> +‘Can I have dreamed who have not slept?’ <br/> +<br/> +And I knew, alas! or ever I would,<br/> +Whether I dreamed, or thou wert good.<br/> +<br/> +When my baby died, my brain grew wild.<br/> +I awoke, and found I was with my child.”<br/> +<br/> +“If thou art the ghost of my Adelaide,<br/> +How is it? Thou wert but a village maid,<br/> +<br/> +And thou seemest an angel lady white,<br/> +Though thin, and wan, and past delight.”<br/> +<br/> +The lady smiled a flickering smile,<br/> +And she pressed her temples hard the while.<br/> +<br/> +“Thou seest that Death for a woman can<br/> +Do more than knighthood for a man.”<br/> +<br/> +“But show me the child thou callest mine,<br/> +Is she out to-night in the ghost’s sunshine?”<br/> +<br/> +“In St. Peter’s Church she is playing on,<br/> +At hide-and-seek, with Apostle John.<br/> +<br/> +When the moonbeams right through the window go,<br/> +Where the twelve are standing in glorious show,<br/> +<br/> +She says the rest of them do not stir,<br/> +But one comes down to play with her.<br/> +<br/> +Then I can go where I list, and weep,<br/> +For good St. John my child will keep.”<br/> +<br/> +“Thy beauty filleth the very air,<br/> +Never saw I a woman so fair.”<br/> +<br/> +“Come, if thou darest, and sit by my side;<br/> +But do not touch me, or woe will betide.<br/> +<br/> +Alas, I am weak: I might well know<br/> +This gladness betokens some further woe.<br/> +<br/> +Yet come. It will come. I will bear it. I can.<br/> +For thou lovest me yet—though but as a man.”<br/> +<br/> +The knight dismounted in earnest speed;<br/> +Away through the tombstones thundered the steed,<br/> +<br/> +And fell by the outer wall, and died.<br/> +But the knight he kneeled by the lady’s side;<br/> +<br/> +Kneeled beside her in wondrous bliss,<br/> +Rapt in an everlasting kiss:<br/> +<br/> +Though never his lips come the lady nigh,<br/> +And his eyes alone on her beauty lie.<br/> +<br/> +All the night long, till the cock crew loud,<br/> +He kneeled by the lady, lapt in her shroud.<br/> +<br/> +And what they said, I may not say:<br/> +Dead night was sweeter than living day.<br/> +<br/> +How she made him so blissful glad<br/> +Who made her and found her so ghostly sad,<br/> +<br/> +I may not tell; but it needs no touch<br/> +To make them blessed who love so much.<br/> +<br/> +“Come every night, my ghost, to me;<br/> +And one night I will come to thee.<br/> +<br/> +‘Tis good to have a ghostly wife:<br/> +She will not tremble at clang of strife;<br/> +<br/> +She will only hearken, amid the din,<br/> +Behind the door, if he cometh in.”<br/> +<br/> +And this is how Sir Aglovaile<br/> +Often walked in the moonlight pale.<br/> +<br/> +And oft when the crescent but thinned the gloom,<br/> +Full orbed moonlight filled his room;<br/> +<br/> +And through beneath his chamber door,<br/> +Fell a ghostly gleam on the outer floor;<br/> +<br/> +And they that passed, in fear averred<br/> +That murmured words they often heard.<br/> +<br/> +‘Twas then that the eastern crescent shone<br/> +Through the chancel window, and good St. John<br/> +<br/> +Played with the ghost-child all the night,<br/> +And the mother was free till the morning light,<br/> +<br/> +And sped through the dawning night, to stay<br/> +With Aglovaile till the break of day.<br/> +<br/> +And their love was a rapture, lone and high,<br/> +And dumb as the moon in the topmost sky.<br/> +<br/> +One night Sir Aglovaile, weary, slept<br/> +And dreamed a dream wherein he wept.<br/> +<br/> +A warrior he was, not often wept he,<br/> +But this night he wept full bitterly.<br/> +<br/> +He woke—beside him the ghost-girl shone<br/> +Out of the dark: ‘twas the eve of St. John.<br/> +<br/> +He had dreamed a dream of a still, dark wood,<br/> +Where the maiden of old beside him stood;<br/> +<br/> +But a mist came down, and caught her away,<br/> +And he sought her in vain through the pathless day,<br/> +<br/> +Till he wept with the grief that can do no more,<br/> +And thought he had dreamt the dream before.<br/> +<br/> +From bursting heart the weeping flowed on;<br/> +And lo! beside him the ghost-girl shone;<br/> +<br/> +Shone like the light on a harbour’s breast,<br/> +Over the sea of his dream’s unrest;<br/> +<br/> +Shone like the wondrous, nameless boon,<br/> +That the heart seeks ever, night or noon:<br/> +<br/> +Warnings forgotten, when needed most,<br/> +He clasped to his bosom the radiant ghost.<br/> +<br/> +She wailed aloud, and faded, and sank.<br/> +With upturn’d white face, cold and blank,<br/> +<br/> +In his arms lay the corpse of the maiden pale,<br/> +And she came no more to Sir Aglovaile.<br/> +<br/> +Only a voice, when winds were wild,<br/> +Sobbed and wailed like a chidden child.<br/> +<br/> +<i>Alas, how easily things go wrong!<br/> +A sigh too much, or a kiss too long,<br/> +And there follows a mist and a weeping rain,<br/> +And life is never the same again.</i> +</p> + +<p> +This was one of the simplest of her songs, which, perhaps, is the cause of my +being able to remember it better than most of the others. While she sung, I was +in Elysium, with the sense of a rich soul upholding, embracing, and overhanging +mine, full of all plenty and bounty. I felt as if she could give me everything +I wanted; as if I should never wish to leave her, but would be content to be +sung to and fed by her, day after day, as years rolled by. At last I fell +asleep while she sang. +</p> + +<p> +When I awoke, I knew not whether it was night or day. The fire had sunk to a +few red embers, which just gave light enough to show me the woman standing a +few feet from me, with her back towards me, facing the door by which I had +entered. She was weeping, but very gently and plentifully. The tears seemed to +come freely from her heart. Thus she stood for a few minutes; then, slowly +turning at right angles to her former position, she faced another of the four +sides of the cottage. I now observed, for the first time, that here was a door +likewise; and that, indeed, there was one in the centre of every side of the +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +When she looked towards the second door, her tears ceased to flow, but sighs +took their place. She often closed her eyes as she stood; and every time she +closed her eyes, a gentle sigh seemed to be born in her heart, and to escape at +her lips. But when her eyes were open, her sighs were deep and very sad, and +shook her whole frame. Then she turned towards the third door, and a cry as of +fear or suppressed pain broke from her; but she seemed to hearten herself +against the dismay, and to front it steadily; for, although I often heard a +slight cry, and sometimes a moan, yet she never moved or bent her head, and I +felt sure that her eyes never closed. Then she turned to the fourth door, and I +saw her shudder, and then stand still as a statue; till at last she turned +towards me and approached the fire. I saw that her face was white as death. But +she gave one look upwards, and smiled the sweetest, most child-innocent smile; +then heaped fresh wood on the fire, and, sitting down by the blaze, drew her +wheel near her, and began to spin. While she spun, she murmured a low strange +song, to which the hum of the wheel made a kind of infinite symphony. At length +she paused in her spinning and singing, and glanced towards me, like a mother +who looks whether or not her child gives signs of waking. She smiled when she +saw that my eyes were open. I asked her whether it was day yet. She answered, +“It is always day here, so long as I keep my fire burning.” +</p> + +<p> +I felt wonderfully refreshed; and a great desire to see more of the island +awoke within me. I rose, and saying that I wished to look about me, went +towards the door by which I had entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay a moment,” said my hostess, with some trepidation in her +voice. “Listen to me. You will not see what you expect when you go out of +that door. Only remember this: whenever you wish to come back to me, enter +wherever you see this mark.” +</p> + +<p> +She held up her left hand between me and the fire. Upon the palm, which +appeared almost transparent, I saw, in dark red, a mark like this —> +which I took care to fix in my mind. +</p> + +<p> +She then kissed me, and bade me good-bye with a solemnity that awed me; and +bewildered me too, seeing I was only going out for a little ramble in an +island, which I did not believe larger than could easily be compassed in a few +hours’ walk at most. As I went she resumed her spinning. +</p> + +<p> +I opened the door, and stepped out. The moment my foot touched the smooth +sward, I seemed to issue from the door of an old barn on my father’s +estate, where, in the hot afternoons, I used to go and lie amongst the straw, +and read. It seemed to me now that I had been asleep there. At a little +distance in the field, I saw two of my brothers at play. The moment they caught +sight of me, they called out to me to come and join them, which I did; and we +played together as we had done years ago, till the red sun went down in the +west, and the gray fog began to rise from the river. Then we went home together +with a strange happiness. As we went, we heard the continually renewed larum of +a landrail in the long grass. One of my brothers and I separated to a little +distance, and each commenced running towards the part whence the sound appeared +to come, in the hope of approaching the spot where the bird was, and so getting +at least a sight of it, if we should not be able to capture the little +creature. My father’s voice recalled us from trampling down the rich long +grass, soon to be cut down and laid aside for the winter. I had quite forgotten +all about Fairy Land, and the wonderful old woman, and the curious red mark. +</p> + +<p> +My favourite brother and I shared the same bed. Some childish dispute arose +between us; and our last words, ere we fell asleep, were not of kindness, +notwithstanding the pleasures of the day. When I woke in the morning, I missed +him. He had risen early, and had gone to bathe in the river. In another hour, +he was brought home drowned. Alas! alas! if we had only gone to sleep as usual, +the one with his arm about the other! Amidst the horror of the moment, a +strange conviction flashed across my mind, that I had gone through the very +same once before. +</p> + +<p> +I rushed out of the house, I knew not why, sobbing and crying bitterly. I ran +through the fields in aimless distress, till, passing the old barn, I caught +sight of a red mark on the door. The merest trifles sometimes rivet the +attention in the deepest misery; the intellect has so little to do with grief. +I went up to look at this mark, which I did not remember ever to have seen +before. As I looked at it, I thought I would go in and lie down amongst the +straw, for I was very weary with running about and weeping. I opened the door; +and there in the cottage sat the old woman as I had left her, at her +spinning-wheel. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not expect you quite so soon,” she said, as I shut the door +behind me. I went up to the couch, and threw myself on it with that fatigue +wherewith one awakes from a feverish dream of hopeless grief. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The great sun, benighted,<br/> + May faint from the sky;<br/> +But love, once uplighted,<br/> + Will never more die.<br/> +<br/> +Form, with its brightness,<br/> + From eyes will depart:<br/> +It walketh, in whiteness,<br/> + The halls of the heart. +</p> + +<p> +Ere she had ceased singing, my courage had returned. I started from the couch, +and, without taking leave of the old woman, opened the door of Sighs, and +sprang into what should appear. +</p> + +<p> +I stood in a lordly hall, where, by a blazing fire on the hearth, sat a lady, +waiting, I knew, for some one long desired. A mirror was near me, but I saw +that my form had no place within its depths, so I feared not that I should be +seen. The lady wonderfully resembled my marble lady, but was altogether of the +daughters of men, and I could not tell whether or not it was she. +</p> + +<p> +It was not for me she waited. The tramp of a great horse rang through the court +without. It ceased, and the clang of armour told that his rider alighted, and +the sound of his ringing heels approached the hall. The door opened; but the +lady waited, for she would meet her lord alone. He strode in: she flew like a +home-bound dove into his arms, and nestled on the hard steel. It was the knight +of the soiled armour. But now the armour shone like polished glass; and strange +to tell, though the mirror reflected not my form, I saw a dim shadow of myself +in the shining steel. +</p> + +<p> +“O my beloved, thou art come, and I am blessed.” +</p> + +<p> +Her soft fingers speedily overcame the hard clasp of his helmet; one by one she +undid the buckles of his armour; and she toiled under the weight of the mail, +as she <i>would</i> carry it aside. Then she unclasped his greaves, and +unbuckled his spurs; and once more she sprang into his arms, and laid her head +where she could now feel the beating of his heart. Then she disengaged herself +from his embrace, and, moving back a step or two, gazed at him. He stood there +a mighty form, crowned with a noble head, where all sadness had disappeared, or +had been absorbed in solemn purpose. Yet I suppose that he looked more +thoughtful than the lady had expected to see him, for she did not renew her +caresses, although his face glowed with love, and the few words he spoke were +as mighty deeds for strength; but she led him towards the hearth, and seated +him in an ancient chair, and set wine before him, and sat at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sad,” he said, “when I think of the youth whom I met +twice in the forests of Fairy Land; and who, you say, twice, with his songs, +roused you from the death-sleep of an evil enchantment. There was something +noble in him, but it was a nobleness of thought, and not of deed. He may yet +perish of vile fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” returned the lady, “you saved him once, and for that I +thank you; for may I not say that I somewhat loved him? But tell me how you +fared, when you struck your battle-axe into the ash-tree, and he came and found +you; for so much of the story you had told me, when the beggar-child came and +took you away.” +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as I saw him,” rejoined the knight, “I knew that +earthly arms availed not against such as he; and that my soul must meet him in +its naked strength. So I unclasped my helm, and flung it on the ground; and, +holding my good axe yet in my hand, gazed at him with steady eyes. On he came, +a horror indeed, but I did not flinch. Endurance must conquer, where force +could not reach. He came nearer and nearer, till the ghastly face was close to +mine. A shudder as of death ran through me; but I think I did not move, for he +seemed to quail, and retreated. As soon as he gave back, I struck one more +sturdy blow on the stem of his tree, that the forest rang; and then looked at +him again. He writhed and grinned with rage and apparent pain, and again +approached me, but retreated sooner than before. I heeded him no more, but +hewed with a will at the tree, till the trunk creaked, and the head bowed, and +with a crash it fell to the earth. Then I looked up from my labour, and lo! the +spectre had vanished, and I saw him no more; nor ever in my wanderings have I +heard of him again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well struck! well withstood! my hero,” said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the knight, somewhat troubled, “dost thou love +the youth still?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she replied, “how can I help it? He woke me from worse +than death; he loved me. I had never been for thee, if he had not sought me +first. But I love him not as I love thee. He was but the moon of my night; thou +art the sun of my day, O beloved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art right,” returned the noble man. “It were hard, +indeed, not to have some love in return for such a gift as he hath given thee. +I, too, owe him more than words can speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Humbled before them, with an aching and desolate heart, I yet could not +restrain my words: +</p> + +<p> +“Let me, then, be the moon of thy night still, O woman! And when thy day +is beclouded, as the fairest days will be, let some song of mine comfort thee, +as an old, withered, half-forgotten thing, that belongs to an ancient mournful +hour of uncompleted birth, which yet was beautiful in its time.” +</p> + +<p> +They sat silent, and I almost thought they were listening. The colour of the +lady’s eyes grew deeper and deeper; the slow tears grew, and filled them, +and overflowed. They rose, and passed, hand in hand, close to where I stood; +and each looked towards me in passing. Then they disappeared through a door +which closed behind them; but, ere it closed, I saw that the room into which it +opened was a rich chamber, hung with gorgeous arras. I stood with an ocean of +sighs frozen in my bosom. I could remain no longer. She was near me, and I +could not see her; near me in the arms of one loved better than I, and I would +not see her, and I would not be by her. But how to escape from the nearness of +the best beloved? I had not this time forgotten the mark; for the fact that I +could not enter the sphere of these living beings kept me aware that, for me, I +moved in a vision, while they moved in life. I looked all about for the mark, +but could see it nowhere; for I avoided looking just where it was. There the +dull red cipher glowed, on the very door of their secret chamber. Struck with +agony, I dashed it open, and fell at the feet of the ancient woman, who still +spun on, the whole dissolved ocean of my sighs bursting from me in a storm of +tearless sobs. Whether I fainted or slept, I do not know; but, as I returned to +consciousness, before I seemed to have power to move, I heard the woman +singing, and could distinguish the words: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +O light of dead and of dying days!<br/> + O Love! in thy glory go,<br/> +In a rosy mist and a moony maze,<br/> + O’er the pathless peaks of snow.<br/> +<br/> +But what is left for the cold gray soul,<br/> + That moans like a wounded dove?<br/> +One wine is left in the broken bowl!—<br/> + ‘Tis—<i>To love, and love and love</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Now I could weep. When she saw me weeping, she sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Better to sit at the waters’ birth,<br/> + Than a sea of waves to win;<br/> +To live in the love that floweth forth,<br/> + Than the love that cometh in.<br/> +<br/> +Be thy heart a well of love, my child,<br/> + Flowing, and free, and sure;<br/> +For a cistern of love, though undefiled,<br/> + Keeps not the spirit pure. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I rose from the earth, loving the white lady as I had never loved her before. +</p> + +<p> +Then I walked up to the door of Dismay, and opened it, and went out. And lo! I +came forth upon a crowded street, where men and women went to and fro in +multitudes. I knew it well; and, turning to one hand, walked sadly along the +pavement. Suddenly I saw approaching me, a little way off, a form well known to +me (<i>well-known!</i>—alas, how weak the word!) in the years when I +thought my boyhood was left behind, and shortly before I entered the realm of +Fairy Land. Wrong and Sorrow had gone together, hand-in-hand as it is well they +do. +</p> + +<p> +Unchangeably dear was that face. It lay in my heart as a child lies in its own +white bed; but I could not meet her. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything but that,” I said, and, turning aside, sprang up the +steps to a door, on which I fancied I saw the mystic sign. I entered—not +the mysterious cottage, but her home. I rushed wildly on, and stood by the door +of her room. +</p> + +<p> +“She is out,” I said, “I will see the old room once +more.” +</p> + +<p> +I opened the door gently, and stood in a great solemn church. A deep-toned +bell, whose sounds throbbed and echoed and swam through the empty building, +struck the hour of midnight. The moon shone through the windows of the +clerestory, and enough of the ghostly radiance was diffused through the church +to let me see, walking with a stately, yet somewhat trailing and stumbling +step, down the opposite aisle, for I stood in one of the transepts, a figure +dressed in a white robe, whether for the night, or for that longer night which +lies too deep for the day, I could not tell. Was it she? and was this her +chamber? I crossed the church, and followed. The figure stopped, seemed to +ascend as it were a high bed, and lay down. I reached the place where it lay, +glimmering white. The bed was a tomb. The light was too ghostly to see clearly, +but I passed my hand over the face and the hands and the feet, which were all +bare. They were cold—they were marble, but I knew them. It grew dark. I +turned to retrace my steps, but found, ere long, that I had wandered into what +seemed a little chapel. I groped about, seeking the door. Everything I touched +belonged to the dead. My hands fell on the cold effigy of a knight who lay with +his legs crossed and his sword broken beside him. He lay in his noble rest, and +I lived on in ignoble strife. I felt for the left hand and a certain finger; I +found there the ring I knew: he was one of my own ancestors. I was in the +chapel over the burial-vault of my race. I called aloud: “If any of the +dead are moving here, let them take pity upon me, for I, alas! am still alive; +and let some dead woman comfort me, for I am a stranger in the land of the +dead, and see no light.” A warm kiss alighted on my lips through the +dark. And I said, “The dead kiss well; I will not be afraid.” And a +great hand was reached out of the dark, and grasped mine for a moment, mightily +and tenderly. I said to myself: “The veil between, though very dark, is +very thin.” +</p> + +<p> +Groping my way further, I stumbled over the heavy stone that covered the +entrance of the vault: and, in stumbling, descried upon the stone the mark, +glowing in red fire. I caught the great ring. All my effort could not have +moved the huge slab; but it opened the door of the cottage, and I threw myself +once more, pale and speechless, on the couch beside the ancient dame. She sang +once more: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thou dreamest: on a rock thou art,<br/> + High o’er the broken wave;<br/> +Thou fallest with a fearful start<br/> + But not into thy grave;<br/> +For, waking in the morning’s light,<br/> +Thou smilest at the vanished night<br/> +<br/> +So wilt thou sink, all pale and dumb,<br/> + Into the fainting gloom;<br/> +But ere the coming terrors come,<br/> + Thou wak’st—where is the tomb?<br/> +Thou wak’st—the dead ones smile above,<br/> +With hovering arms of sleepless love. +</p> + +<p> +She paused; then sang again: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +We weep for gladness, weep for grief;<br/> + The tears they are the same;<br/> +We sigh for longing, and relief;<br/> + The sighs have but one name,<br/> +<br/> +And mingled in the dying strife,<br/> + Are moans that are not sad<br/> +The pangs of death are throbs of life,<br/> + Its sighs are sometimes glad.<br/> +<br/> +The face is very strange and white:<br/> + It is Earth’s only spot<br/> +That feebly flickers back the light<br/> + The living seeth not. +</p> + +<p> +I fell asleep, and slept a dreamless sleep, for I know not how long. When I +awoke, I found that my hostess had moved from where she had been sitting, and +now sat between me and the fourth door. +</p> + +<p> +I guessed that her design was to prevent my entering there. I sprang from the +couch, and darted past her to the door. I opened it at once and went out. All I +remember is a cry of distress from the woman: “Don’t go there, my +child! Don’t go there!” But I was gone. +</p> + +<p> +I knew nothing more; or, if I did, I had forgot it all when I awoke to +consciousness, lying on the floor of the cottage, with my head in the lap of +the woman, who was weeping over me, and stroking my hair with both hands, +talking to me as a mother might talk to a sick and sleeping, or a dead child. +As soon as I looked up and saw her, she smiled through her tears; smiled with +withered face and young eyes, till her countenance was irradiated with the +light of the smile. Then she bathed my head and face and hands in an icy cold, +colourless liquid, which smelt a little of damp earth. Immediately I was able +to sit up. She rose and put some food before me. When I had eaten, she said: +“Listen to me, my child. You must leave me directly!” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave you!” I said. “I am so happy with you. I never was so +happy in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you must go,” she rejoined sadly. “Listen! What do you +hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear the sound as of a great throbbing of water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you do hear it? Well, I had to go through that door—the door +of the Timeless” (and she shuddered as she pointed to the fourth +door)—“to find you; for if I had not gone, you would never have +entered again; and because I went, the waters around my cottage will rise and +rise, and flow and come, till they build a great firmament of waters over my +dwelling. But as long as I keep my fire burning, they cannot enter. I have fuel +enough for years; and after one year they will sink away again, and be just as +they were before you came. I have not been buried for a hundred years +now.” And she smiled and wept. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! alas!” I cried. “I have brought this evil on the best +and kindest of friends, who has filled my heart with great gifts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not think of that,” she rejoined. “I can bear it very +well. You will come back to me some day, I know. But I beg you, for my sake, my +dear child, to do one thing. In whatever sorrow you may be, however +inconsolable and irremediable it may appear, believe me that the old woman in +the cottage, with the young eyes” (and she smiled), “knows +something, though she must not always tell it, that would quite satisfy you +about it, even in the worst moments of your distress. Now you must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can I go, if the waters are all about, and if the doors all lead +into other regions and other worlds?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is not an island,” she replied; “but is joined to the +land by a narrow neck; and for the door, I will lead you myself through the +right one.” +</p> + +<p> +She took my hand, and led me through the third door; whereupon I found myself +standing in the deep grassy turf on which I had landed from the little boat, +but upon the opposite side of the cottage. She pointed out the direction I must +take, to find the isthmus and escape the rising waters. +</p> + +<p> +Then putting her arms around me, she held me to her bosom; and as I kissed her, +I felt as if I were leaving my mother for the first time, and could not help +weeping bitterly. At length she gently pushed me away, and with the words, +“Go, my son, and do something worth doing,” turned back, and, +entering the cottage, closed the door behind her. I felt very desolate as I +went. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Thou hadst no fame; that which thou didst like good<br/> +Was but thy appetite that swayed thy blood<br/> +For that time to the best; for as a blast<br/> +That through a house comes, usually doth cast<br/> +Things out of order, yet by chance may come<br/> +And blow some one thing to his proper room,<br/> +So did thy appetite, and not thy zeal,<br/> +Sway thee by chance to do some one thing well.”<br/> + F<small>LETCHER’S</small> <i>Faithful Shepherdess</i>.<br/> +<br/> +“The noble hart that harbours vertuous thought<br/> +And is with childe of glorious great intent,<br/> +Can never rest, until it forth have brought<br/> +Th’ eternall brood of glorie excellent.”<br/> + S<small>PENSER</small>, <i>The Faerie Queene</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I had not gone very far before I felt that the turf beneath my feet was soaked +with the rising waters. But I reached the isthmus in safety. It was rocky, and +so much higher than the level of the peninsula, that I had plenty of time to +cross. I saw on each side of me the water rising rapidly, altogether without +wind, or violent motion, or broken waves, but as if a slow strong fire were +glowing beneath it. Ascending a steep acclivity, I found myself at last in an +open, rocky country. After travelling for some hours, as nearly in a straight +line as I could, I arrived at a lonely tower, built on the top of a little +hill, which overlooked the whole neighbouring country. As I approached, I heard +the clang of an anvil; and so rapid were the blows, that I despaired of making +myself heard till a pause in the work should ensue. It was some minutes before +a cessation took place; but when it did, I knocked loudly, and had not long to +wait; for, a moment after, the door was partly opened by a noble-looking youth, +half-undressed, glowing with heat, and begrimed with the blackness of the +forge. In one hand he held a sword, so lately from the furnace that it yet +shone with a dull fire. As soon as he saw me, he threw the door wide open, and +standing aside, invited me very cordially to enter. I did so; when he shut and +bolted the door most carefully, and then led the way inwards. He brought me +into a rude hall, which seemed to occupy almost the whole of the ground floor +of the little tower, and which I saw was now being used as a workshop. A huge +fire roared on the hearth, beside which was an anvil. By the anvil stood, in +similar undress, and in a waiting attitude, hammer in hand, a second youth, +tall as the former, but far more slightly built. Reversing the usual course of +perception in such meetings, I thought them, at first sight, very unlike; and +at the second glance, knew that they were brothers. The former, and apparently +the elder, was muscular and dark, with curling hair, and large hazel eyes, +which sometimes grew wondrously soft. The second was slender and fair, yet with +a countenance like an eagle, and an eye which, though pale blue, shone with an +almost fierce expression. He stood erect, as if looking from a lofty mountain +crag, over a vast plain outstretched below. As soon as we entered the hall, the +elder turned to me, and I saw that a glow of satisfaction shone on both their +faces. To my surprise and great pleasure, he addressed me thus: +</p> + +<p> +“Brother, will you sit by the fire and rest, till we finish this part of +our work?” +</p> + +<p> +I signified my assent; and, resolved to await any disclosure they might be +inclined to make, seated myself in silence near the hearth. +</p> + +<p> +The elder brother then laid the sword in the fire, covered it well over, and +when it had attained a sufficient degree of heat, drew it out and laid it on +the anvil, moving it carefully about, while the younger, with a succession of +quick smart blows, appeared either to be welding it, or hammering one part of +it to a consenting shape with the rest. Having finished, they laid it carefully +in the fire; and, when it was very hot indeed, plunged it into a vessel full of +some liquid, whence a blue flame sprang upwards, as the glowing steel entered. +</p> + +<p> +There they left it; and drawing two stools to the fire, sat down, one on each +side of me. +</p> + +<p> +“We are very glad to see you, brother. We have been expecting you for +some days,” said the dark-haired youth. +</p> + +<p> +“I am proud to be called your brother,” I rejoined; “and you +will not think I refuse the name, if I desire to know why you honour me with +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! then he does not know about it,” said the younger. “We +thought you had known of the bond betwixt us, and the work we have to do +together. You must tell him, brother, from the first.” +</p> + +<p> +So the elder began: +</p> + +<p> +“Our father is king of this country. Before we were born, three giant +brothers had appeared in the land. No one knew exactly when, and no one had the +least idea whence they came. They took possession of a ruined castle that had +stood unchanged and unoccupied within the memory of any of the country people. +The vaults of this castle had remained uninjured by time, and these, I presume, +they made use of at first. They were rarely seen, and never offered the least +injury to any one; so that they were regarded in the neighbourhood as at least +perfectly harmless, if not rather benevolent beings. But it began to be +observed, that the old castle had assumed somehow or other, no one knew when or +how, a somewhat different look from what it used to have. Not only were several +breaches in the lower part of the walls built up, but actually some of the +battlements which yet stood, had been repaired, apparently to prevent them from +falling into worse decay, while the more important parts were being restored. +Of course, every one supposed the giants must have a hand in the work, but no +one ever saw them engaged in it. The peasants became yet more uneasy, after +one, who had concealed himself, and watched all night, in the neighbourhood of +the castle, reported that he had seen, in full moonlight, the three huge giants +working with might and main, all night long, restoring to their former position +some massive stones, formerly steps of a grand turnpike stair, a great portion +of which had long since fallen, along with part of the wall of the round tower +in which it had been built. This wall they were completing, foot by foot, along +with the stair. But the people said they had no just pretext for interfering: +although the real reason for letting the giants alone was, that everybody was +far too much afraid of them to interrupt them. +</p> + +<p> +“At length, with the help of a neighbouring quarry, the whole of the +external wall of the castle was finished. And now the country folks were in +greater fear than before. But for several years the giants remained very +peaceful. The reason of this was afterwards supposed to be the fact, that they +were distantly related to several good people in the country; for, as long as +these lived, they remained quiet; but as soon as they were all dead the real +nature of the giants broke out. Having completed the outside of their castle, +they proceeded, by spoiling the country houses around them, to make a quiet +luxurious provision for their comfort within. Affairs reached such a pass, that +the news of their robberies came to my father’s ears; but he, alas! was +so crippled in his resources, by a war he was carrying on with a neighbouring +prince, that he could only spare a very few men, to attempt the capture of +their stronghold. Upon these the giants issued in the night, and slew every man +of them. And now, grown bolder by success and impunity, they no longer confined +their depredations to property, but began to seize the persons of their +distinguished neighbours, knights and ladies, and hold them in durance, the +misery of which was heightened by all manner of indignity, until they were +redeemed by their friends, at an exorbitant ransom. Many knights have +adventured their overthrow, but to their own instead; for they have all been +slain, or captured, or forced to make a hasty retreat. To crown their +enormities, if any man now attempts their destruction, they, immediately upon +his defeat, put one or more of their captives to a shameful death, on a turret +in sight of all passers-by; so that they have been much less molested of late; +and we, although we have burned, for years, to attack these demons and destroy +them, dared not, for the sake of their captives, risk the adventure, before we +should have reached at least our earliest manhood. Now, however, we are +preparing for the attempt; and the grounds of this preparation are these. +Having only the resolution, and not the experience necessary for the +undertaking, we went and consulted a lonely woman of wisdom, who lives not very +far from here, in the direction of the quarter from which you have come. She +received us most kindly, and gave us what seems to us the best of advice. She +first inquired what experience we had had in arms. We told her we had been well +exercised from our boyhood, and for some years had kept ourselves in constant +practice, with a view to this necessity. +</p> + +<p> +“‘But you have not actually fought for life and death?’ said +she. +</p> + +<p> +“We were forced to confess we had not. +</p> + +<p> +“‘So much the better in some respects,’ she replied. +‘Now listen to me. Go first and work with an armourer, for as long time +as you find needful to obtain a knowledge of his craft; which will not be long, +seeing your hearts will be all in the work. Then go to some lonely tower, you +two alone. Receive no visits from man or woman. There forge for yourselves +every piece of armour that you wish to wear, or to use, in your coming +encounter. And keep up your exercises. As, however, two of you can be no match +for the three giants, I will find you, if I can, a third brother, who will take +on himself the third share of the fight, and the preparation. Indeed, I have +already seen one who will, I think, be the very man for your fellowship, but it +will be some time before he comes to me. He is wandering now without an aim. I +will show him to you in a glass, and, when he comes, you will know him at once. +If he will share your endeavours, you must teach him all you know, and he will +repay you well, in present song, and in future deeds.’ +</p> + +<p> +“She opened the door of a curious old cabinet that stood in the room. On +the inside of this door was an oval convex mirror. Looking in it for some time, +we at length saw reflected the place where we stood, and the old dame seated in +her chair. Our forms were not reflected. But at the feet of the dame lay a +young man, yourself, weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Surely this youth will not serve our ends,’ said I, +‘for he weeps.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The old woman smiled. ‘Past tears are present strength,’ +said she. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh!’ said my brother, ‘I saw you weep once over an +eagle you shot.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘That was because it was so like you, brother,’ I replied; +‘but indeed, this youth may have better cause for tears than that—I +was wrong.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wait a while,’ said the woman; ‘if I mistake not, he +will make you weep till your tears are dry for ever. Tears are the only cure +for weeping. And you may have need of the cure, before you go forth to fight +the giants. You must wait for him, in your tower, till he comes.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now if you will join us, we will soon teach you to make your armour; and +we will fight together, and work together, and love each other as never three +loved before. And you will sing to us, will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will, when I can,” I answered; “but it is only at +times that the power of song comes upon me. For that I must wait; but I have a +feeling that if I work well, song will not be far off to enliven the +labour.” +</p> + +<p> +This was all the compact made: the brothers required nothing more, and I did +not think of giving anything more. I rose, and threw off my upper garments. +</p> + +<p> +“I know the uses of the sword,” I said. “I am ashamed of my +white hands beside yours so nobly soiled and hard; but that shame will soon be +wiped away.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; we will not work to-day. Rest is as needful as toil. Bring the +wine, brother; it is your turn to serve to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +The younger brother soon covered a table with rough viands, but good wine; and +we ate and drank heartily, beside our work. Before the meal was over, I had +learned all their story. Each had something in his heart which made the +conviction, that he would victoriously perish in the coming conflict, a real +sorrow to him. Otherwise they thought they would have lived enough. The causes +of their trouble were respectively these: +</p> + +<p> +While they wrought with an armourer, in a city famed for workmanship in steel +and silver, the elder had fallen in love with a lady as far beneath him in real +rank, as she was above the station he had as apprentice to an armourer. Nor did +he seek to further his suit by discovering himself; but there was simply so +much manhood about him, that no one ever thought of rank when in his company. +This is what his brother said about it. The lady could not help loving him in +return. He told her when he left her, that he had a perilous adventure before +him, and that when it was achieved, she would either see him return to claim +her, or hear that he had died with honour. The younger brother’s grief +arose from the fact, that, if they were both slain, his old father, the king, +would be childless. His love for his father was so exceeding, that to one +unable to sympathise with it, it would have appeared extravagant. Both loved +him equally at heart; but the love of the younger had been more developed, +because his thoughts and anxieties had not been otherwise occupied. When at +home, he had been his constant companion; and, of late, had ministered to the +infirmities of his growing age. The youth was never weary of listening to the +tales of his sire’s youthful adventures; and had not yet in the smallest +degree lost the conviction, that his father was the greatest man in the world. +The grandest triumph possible to his conception was, to return to his father, +laden with the spoils of one of the hated giants. But they both were in some +dread, lest the thought of the loneliness of these two might occur to them, in +the moment when decision was most necessary, and disturb, in some degree, the +self-possession requisite for the success of their attempt. For, as I have +said, they were yet untried in actual conflict. “Now,” thought I, +“I see to what the powers of my gift must minister.” For my own +part, I did not dread death, for I had nothing to care to live for; but I +dreaded the encounter because of the responsibility connected with it. I +resolved however to work hard, and thus grow cool, and quick, and forceful. +</p> + +<p> +The time passed away in work and song, in talk and ramble, in friendly fight +and brotherly aid. I would not forge for myself armour of heavy mail like +theirs, for I was not so powerful as they, and depended more for any success I +might secure, upon nimbleness of motion, certainty of eye, and ready response +of hand. Therefore I began to make for myself a shirt of steel plates and +rings; which work, while more troublesome, was better suited to me than the +heavier labour. Much assistance did the brothers give me, even after, by their +instructions, I was able to make some progress alone. Their work was in a +moment abandoned, to render any required aid to mine. As the old woman had +promised, I tried to repay them with song; and many were the tears they both +shed over my ballads and dirges. The songs they liked best to hear were two +which I made for them. They were not half so good as many others I knew, +especially some I had learned from the wise woman in the cottage; but what +comes nearest to our needs we like the best. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +I +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The king sat on his throne<br/> + Glowing in gold and red;<br/> +The crown in his right hand shone,<br/> + And the gray hairs crowned his head.<br/> +<br/> +His only son walks in,<br/> + And in walls of steel he stands:<br/> +Make me, O father, strong to win,<br/> + With the blessing of holy hands.”<br/> +<br/> +He knelt before his sire,<br/> + Who blessed him with feeble smile<br/> +His eyes shone out with a kingly fire,<br/> + But his old lips quivered the while.<br/> +<br/> +“Go to the fight, my son,<br/> + Bring back the giant’s head;<br/> +And the crown with which my brows have done,<br/> + Shall glitter on thine instead.”<br/> +<br/> +“My father, I seek no crowns,<br/> + But unspoken praise from thee;<br/> +For thy people’s good, and thy renown,<br/> + I will die to set them free.”<br/> +<br/> +The king sat down and waited there,<br/> + And rose not, night nor day;<br/> +Till a sound of shouting filled the air,<br/> + And cries of a sore dismay.<br/> +<br/> +Then like a king he sat once more,<br/> + With the crown upon his head;<br/> +And up to the throne the people bore<br/> + A mighty giant dead.<br/> +<br/> +And up to the throne the people bore<br/> + A pale and lifeless boy.<br/> +The king rose up like a prophet of yore,<br/> + In a lofty, deathlike joy.<br/> +<br/> +He put the crown on the chilly brow:<br/> + “Thou should’st have reigned with me<br/> +But Death is the king of both, and now<br/> + I go to obey with thee.<br/> +<br/> +“Surely some good in me there lay,<br/> + To beget the noble one.”<br/> +The old man smiled like a winter day,<br/> + And fell beside his son. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +II +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“O lady, thy lover is dead,” they cried;<br/> + “He is dead, but hath slain the foe;<br/> +He hath left his name to be magnified<br/> + In a song of wonder and woe.”<br/> +<br/> +“Alas! I am well repaid,” said she,<br/> + “With a pain that stings like joy:<br/> +For I feared, from his tenderness to me,<br/> + That he was but a feeble boy.<br/> +<br/> +“Now I shall hold my head on high,<br/> + The queen among my kind;<br/> +If ye hear a sound, ‘tis only a sigh<br/> + For a glory left behind.” +</p> + +<p> +The first three times I sang these songs they both wept passionately. But after +the third time, they wept no more. Their eyes shone, and their faces grew pale, +but they never wept at any of my songs again. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“I put my life in my hands.”<br/> + <i>The Book of Judges</i>. +</p> + +<p> +At length, with much toil and equal delight, our armour was finished. We armed +each other, and tested the strength of the defence, with many blows of loving +force. I was inferior in strength to both my brothers, but a little more agile +than either; and upon this agility, joined to precision in hitting with the +point of my weapon, I grounded my hopes of success in the ensuing combat. I +likewise laboured to develop yet more the keenness of sight with which I was +naturally gifted; and, from the remarks of my companions, I soon learned that +my endeavours were not in vain. +</p> + +<p> +The morning arrived on which we had determined to make the attempt, and succeed +or perish—perhaps both. We had resolved to fight on foot; knowing that +the mishap of many of the knights who had made the attempt, had resulted from +the fright of their horses at the appearance of the giants; and believing with +Sir Gawain, that, though mare’s sons might be false to us, the earth +would never prove a traitor. But most of our preparations were, in their +immediate aim at least, frustrated. +</p> + +<p> +We rose, that fatal morning, by daybreak. We had rested from all labour the day +before, and now were fresh as the lark. We bathed in cold spring water, and +dressed ourselves in clean garments, with a sense of preparation, as for a +solemn festivity. When we had broken our fast, I took an old lyre, which I had +found in the tower and had myself repaired, and sung for the last time the two +ballads of which I have said so much already. I followed them with this, for a +closing song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Oh, well for him who breaks his dream<br/> + With the blow that ends the strife<br/> +And, waking, knows the peace that flows<br/> + Around the pain of life!<br/> +<br/> +We are dead, my brothers! Our bodies clasp,<br/> + As an armour, our souls about;<br/> +This hand is the battle-axe I grasp,<br/> + And this my hammer stout.<br/> +<br/> +Fear not, my brothers, for we are dead;<br/> + No noise can break our rest;<br/> +The calm of the grave is about the head,<br/> + And the heart heaves not the breast.<br/> +<br/> +And our life we throw to our people back,<br/> + To live with, a further store;<br/> +We leave it them, that there be no lack<br/> + In the land where we live no more.<br/> +<br/> +Oh, well for him who breaks his dream<br/> + With the blow that ends the strife<br/> +And, waking, knows the peace that flows<br/> + Around the noise of life! +</p> + +<p> +As the last few tones of the instrument were following, like a dirge, the death +of the song, we all sprang to our feet. For, through one of the little windows +of the tower, towards which I had looked as I sang, I saw, suddenly rising over +the edge of the slope on which our tower stood, three enormous heads. The +brothers knew at once, by my looks, what caused my sudden movement. We were +utterly unarmed, and there was no time to arm. +</p> + +<p> +But we seemed to adopt the same resolution simultaneously; for each caught up +his favourite weapon, and, leaving his defence behind, sprang to the door. I +snatched up a long rapier, abruptly, but very finely pointed, in my sword-hand, +and in the other a sabre; the elder brother seized his heavy battle-axe; and +the younger, a great, two-handed sword, which he wielded in one hand like a +feather. We had just time to get clear of the tower, embrace and say good-bye, +and part to some little distance, that we might not encumber each other’s +motions, ere the triple giant-brotherhood drew near to attack us. They were +about twice our height, and armed to the teeth. Through the visors of their +helmets their monstrous eyes shone with a horrible ferocity. I was in the +middle position, and the middle giant approached me. My eyes were busy with his +armour, and I was not a moment in settling my mode of attack. I saw that his +body-armour was somewhat clumsily made, and that the overlappings in the lower +part had more play than necessary; and I hoped that, in a fortunate moment, +some joint would open a little, in a visible and accessible part. I stood till +he came near enough to aim a blow at me with the mace, which has been, in all +ages, the favourite weapon of giants, when, of course, I leaped aside, and let +the blow fall upon the spot where I had been standing. I expected this would +strain the joints of his armour yet more. Full of fury, he made at me again; +but I kept him busy, constantly eluding his blows, and hoping thus to fatigue +him. He did not seem to fear any assault from me, and I attempted none as yet; +but while I watched his motions in order to avoid his blows, I, at the same +time, kept equal watch upon those joints of his armour, through some one of +which I hoped to reach his life. At length, as if somewhat fatigued, he paused +a moment, and drew himself slightly up; I bounded forward, foot and hand, ran +my rapier right through to the armour of his back, let go the hilt, and passing +under his right arm, turned as he fell, and flew at him with my sabre. At one +happy blow I divided the band of his helmet, which fell off, and allowed me, +with a second cut across the eyes, to blind him quite; after which I clove his +head, and turned, uninjured, to see how my brothers had fared. Both the giants +were down, but so were my brothers. I flew first to the one and then to the +other couple. Both pairs of combatants were dead, and yet locked together, as +in the death-struggle. The elder had buried his battle-axe in the body of his +foe, and had fallen beneath him as he fell. The giant had strangled him in his +own death-agonies. The younger had nearly hewn off the left leg of his enemy; +and, grappled with in the act, had, while they rolled together on the earth, +found for his dagger a passage betwixt the gorget and cuirass of the giant, and +stabbed him mortally in the throat. The blood from the giant’s throat was +yet pouring over the hand of his foe, which still grasped the hilt of the +dagger sheathed in the wound. They lay silent. I, the least worthy, remained +the sole survivor in the lists. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood exhausted amidst the dead, after the first worthy deed of my life, I +suddenly looked behind me, and there lay the Shadow, black in the sunshine. I +went into the lonely tower, and there lay the useless armour of the noble +youths—supine as they. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, how sad it looked! It was a glorious death, but it was death. My songs +could not comfort me now. I was almost ashamed that I was alive, when they, the +true-hearted, were no more. And yet I breathed freer to think that I had gone +through the trial, and had not failed. And perhaps I may be forgiven, if some +feelings of pride arose in my bosom, when I looked down on the mighty form that +lay dead by my hand. +</p> + +<p> +“After all, however,” I said to myself, and my heart sank, +“it was only skill. Your giant was but a blunderer.” +</p> + +<p> +I left the bodies of friends and foes, peaceful enough when the death-fight was +over, and, hastening to the country below, roused the peasants. They came with +shouting and gladness, bringing waggons to carry the bodies. I resolved to take +the princes home to their father, each as he lay, in the arms of his +country’s foe. But first I searched the giants, and found the keys of +their castle, to which I repaired, followed by a great company of the people. +It was a place of wonderful strength. I released the prisoners, knights and +ladies, all in a sad condition, from the cruelties and neglects of the giants. +It humbled me to see them crowding round me with thanks, when in truth the +glorious brothers, lying dead by their lonely tower, were those to whom the +thanks belonged. I had but aided in carrying out the thought born in their +brain, and uttered in visible form before ever I laid hold thereupon. Yet I did +count myself happy to have been chosen for their brother in this great deed. +</p> + +<p> +After a few hours spent in refreshing and clothing the prisoners, we all +commenced our journey towards the capital. This was slow at first; but, as the +strength and spirits of the prisoners returned, it became more rapid; and in +three days we reached the palace of the king. As we entered the city gates, +with the huge bulks lying each on a waggon drawn by horses, and two of them +inextricably intertwined with the dead bodies of their princes, the people +raised a shout and then a cry, and followed in multitudes the solemn +procession. +</p> + +<p> +I will not attempt to describe the behaviour of the grand old king. Joy and +pride in his sons overcame his sorrow at their loss. On me he heaped every +kindness that heart could devise or hand execute. He used to sit and question +me, night after night, about everything that was in any way connected with them +and their preparations. Our mode of life, and relation to each other, during +the time we spent together, was a constant theme. He entered into the minutest +details of the construction of the armour, even to a peculiar mode of riveting +some of the plates, with unwearying interest. This armour I had intended to beg +of the king, as my sole memorials of the contest; but, when I saw the delight +he took in contemplating it, and the consolation it appeared to afford him in +his sorrow, I could not ask for it; but, at his request, left my own, weapons +and all, to be joined with theirs in a trophy, erected in the grand square of +the palace. The king, with gorgeous ceremony, dubbed me knight with his own old +hand, in which trembled the sword of his youth. +</p> + +<p> +During the short time I remained, my company was, naturally, much courted by +the young nobles. I was in a constant round of gaiety and diversion, +notwithstanding that the court was in mourning. For the country was so rejoiced +at the death of the giants, and so many of their lost friends had been restored +to the nobility and men of wealth, that the gladness surpassed the grief. +“Ye have indeed left your lives to your people, my great brothers!” +I said. +</p> + +<p> +But I was ever and ever haunted by the old shadow, which I had not seen all the +time that I was at work in the tower. Even in the society of the ladies of the +court, who seemed to think it only their duty to make my stay there as pleasant +to me as possible, I could not help being conscious of its presence, although +it might not be annoying me at the time. At length, somewhat weary of +uninterrupted pleasure, and nowise strengthened thereby, either in body or +mind, I put on a splendid suit of armour of steel inlaid with silver, which the +old king had given me, and, mounting the horse on which it had been brought to +me, took my leave of the palace, to visit the distant city in which the lady +dwelt, whom the elder prince had loved. I anticipated a sore task, in conveying +to her the news of his glorious fate: but this trial was spared me, in a manner +as strange as anything that had happened to me in Fairy Land. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“No one has my form but the <i>I</i>.”<br/> + <i>Schoppe</i>, in J<small>EAN</small> P<small>AUL’S</small> <i>Titan</i>.<br/> +<br/> +“Joy’s a subtil elf.<br/> +I think man’s happiest when he forgets himself.”<br/> + C<small>YRIL</small> T<small>OURNEUR</small>, <i>The Revenger’s Tragedy</i>. +</p> + +<p> +On the third day of my journey, I was riding gently along a road, apparently +little frequented, to judge from the grass that grew upon it. I was approaching +a forest. Everywhere in Fairy Land forests are the places where one may most +certainly expect adventures. As I drew near, a youth, unarmed, gentle, and +beautiful, who had just cut a branch from a yew growing on the skirts of the +wood, evidently to make himself a bow, met me, and thus accosted me: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir knight, be careful as thou ridest through this forest; for it is +said to be strangely enchanted, in a sort which even those who have been +witnesses of its enchantment can hardly describe.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him for his advice, which I promised to follow, and rode on. But the +moment I entered the wood, it seemed to me that, if enchantment there was, it +must be of a good kind; for the Shadow, which had been more than usually dark +and distressing, since I had set out on this journey, suddenly disappeared. I +felt a wonderful elevation of spirits, and began to reflect on my past life, +and especially on my combat with the giants, with such satisfaction, that I had +actually to remind myself, that I had only killed one of them; and that, but +for the brothers, I should never have had the idea of attacking them, not to +mention the smallest power of standing to it. Still I rejoiced, and counted +myself amongst the glorious knights of old; having even the unspeakable +presumption—my shame and self-condemnation at the memory of it are such, +that I write it as the only and sorest penance I can perform—to think of +myself (will the world believe it?) as side by side with Sir Galahad! Scarcely +had the thought been born in my mind, when, approaching me from the left, +through the trees, I espied a resplendent knight, of mighty size, whose armour +seemed to shine of itself, without the sun. When he drew near, I was astonished +to see that this armour was like my own; nay, I could trace, line for line, the +correspondence of the inlaid silver to the device on my own. His horse, too, +was like mine in colour, form, and motion; save that, like his rider, he was +greater and fiercer than his counterpart. The knight rode with beaver up. As he +halted right opposite to me in the narrow path, barring my way, I saw the +reflection of my countenance in the centre plate of shining steel on his +breastplate. Above it rose the same face—his face—only, as I have +said, larger and fiercer. I was bewildered. I could not help feeling some +admiration of him, but it was mingled with a dim conviction that he was evil, +and that I ought to fight with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me pass,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“When I will,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Something within me said: “Spear in rest, and ride at him! else thou art +for ever a slave.” +</p> + +<p> +I tried, but my arm trembled so much, that I could not couch my lance. To tell +the truth, I, who had overcome the giant, shook like a coward before this +knight. He gave a scornful laugh, that echoed through the wood, turned his +horse, and said, without looking round, “Follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed, abashed and stupefied. How long he led, and how long I followed, I +cannot tell. “I never knew misery before,” I said to myself. +“Would that I had at least struck him, and had had my death-blow in +return! Why, then, do I not call to him to wheel and defend himself? Alas! I +know not why, but I cannot. One look from him would cow me like a beaten +hound.” I followed, and was silent. +</p> + +<p> +At length we came to a dreary square tower, in the middle of a dense forest. It +looked as if scarce a tree had been cut down to make room for it. Across the +very door, diagonally, grew the stem of a tree, so large that there was just +room to squeeze past it in order to enter. One miserable square hole in the +roof was the only visible suggestion of a window. Turret or battlement, or +projecting masonry of any kind, it had none. Clear and smooth and massy, it +rose from its base, and ended with a line straight and unbroken. The roof, +carried to a centre from each of the four walls, rose slightly to the point +where the rafters met. Round the base lay several little heaps of either bits +of broken branches, withered and peeled, or half-whitened bones; I could not +distinguish which. As I approached, the ground sounded hollow beneath my +horse’s hoofs. The knight took a great key from his pocket, and reaching +past the stem of the tree, with some difficulty opened the door. +“Dismount,” he commanded. I obeyed. He turned my horse’s head +away from the tower, gave him a terrible blow with the flat side of his sword, +and sent him madly tearing through the forest. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said he, “enter, and take your companion with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked round: knight and horse had vanished, and behind me lay the horrible +shadow. I entered, for I could not help myself; and the shadow followed me. I +had a terrible conviction that the knight and he were one. The door closed +behind me. +</p> + +<p> +Now I was indeed in pitiful plight. There was literally nothing in the tower +but my shadow and me. The walls rose right up to the roof; in which, as I had +seen from without, there was one little square opening. This I now knew to be +the only window the tower possessed. I sat down on the floor, in listless +wretchedness. I think I must have fallen asleep, and have slept for hours; for +I suddenly became aware of existence, in observing that the moon was shining +through the hole in the roof. As she rose higher and higher, her light crept +down the wall over me, till at last it shone right upon my head. +Instantaneously the walls of the tower seemed to vanish away like a mist. I sat +beneath a beech, on the edge of a forest, and the open country lay, in the +moonlight, for miles and miles around me, spotted with glimmering houses and +spires and towers. I thought with myself, “Oh, joy! it was only a dream; +the horrible narrow waste is gone, and I wake beneath a beech-tree, perhaps one +that loves me, and I can go where I will.” I rose, as I thought, and +walked about, and did what I would, but ever kept near the tree; for always, +and, of course, since my meeting with the woman of the beech-tree far more than +ever, I loved that tree. So the night wore on. I waited for the sun to rise, +before I could venture to renew my journey. But as soon as the first faint +light of the dawn appeared, instead of shining upon me from the eye of the +morning, it stole like a fainting ghost through the little square hole above my +head; and the walls came out as the light grew, and the glorious night was +swallowed up of the hateful day. The long dreary day passed. My shadow lay +black on the floor. I felt no hunger, no need of food. The night came. The moon +shone. I watched her light slowly descending the wall, as I might have watched, +adown the sky, the long, swift approach of a helping angel. Her rays touched +me, and I was free. Thus night after night passed away. I should have died but +for this. Every night the conviction returned, that I was free. Every morning I +sat wretchedly disconsolate. At length, when the course of the moon no longer +permitted her beams to touch me, the night was dreary as the day. +</p> + +<p> +When I slept, I was somewhat consoled by my dreams; but all the time I dreamed, +I knew that I was only dreaming. But one night, at length, the moon, a mere +shred of pallor, scattered a few thin ghostly rays upon me; and I think I fell +asleep and dreamed. I sat in an autumn night before the vintage, on a hill +overlooking my own castle. My heart sprang with joy. Oh, to be a child again, +innocent, fearless, without shame or desire! I walked down to the castle. All +were in consternation at my absence. My sisters were weeping for my loss. They +sprang up and clung to me, with incoherent cries, as I entered. My old friends +came flocking round me. A gray light shone on the roof of the hall. It was the +light of the dawn shining through the square window of my tower. More earnestly +than ever, I longed for freedom after this dream; more drearily than ever, +crept on the next wretched day. I measured by the sunbeams, caught through the +little window in the trap of my tower, how it went by, waiting only for the +dreams of the night. +</p> + +<p> +About noon, I started as if something foreign to all my senses and all my +experience, had suddenly invaded me; yet it was only the voice of a woman +singing. My whole frame quivered with joy, surprise, and the sensation of the +unforeseen. Like a living soul, like an incarnation of Nature, the song entered +my prison-house. Each tone folded its wings, and laid itself, like a caressing +bird, upon my heart. It bathed me like a sea; inwrapt me like an odorous +vapour; entered my soul like a long draught of clear spring-water; shone upon +me like essential sunlight; soothed me like a mother’s voice and hand. +Yet, as the clearest forest-well tastes sometimes of the bitterness of decayed +leaves, so to my weary, prisoned heart, its cheerfulness had a sting of cold, +and its tenderness unmanned me with the faintness of long-departed joys. I wept +half-bitterly, half-luxuriously; but not long. I dashed away the tears, ashamed +of a weakness which I thought I had abandoned. Ere I knew, I had walked to the +door, and seated myself with my ears against it, in order to catch every +syllable of the revelation from the unseen outer world. And now I heard each +word distinctly. The singer seemed to be standing or sitting near the tower, +for the sounds indicated no change of place. The song was something like this: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The sun, like a golden knot on high,<br/> +Gathers the glories of the sky,<br/> +And binds them into a shining tent,<br/> +Roofing the world with the firmament.<br/> +And through the pavilion the rich winds blow,<br/> +And through the pavilion the waters go.<br/> +And the birds for joy, and the trees for prayer,<br/> +Bowing their heads in the sunny air,<br/> +And for thoughts, the gently talking springs,<br/> +That come from the centre with secret things—<br/> +All make a music, gentle and strong,<br/> +Bound by the heart into one sweet song.<br/> +And amidst them all, the mother Earth<br/> +Sits with the children of her birth;<br/> +She tendeth them all, as a mother hen<br/> +Her little ones round her, twelve or ten:<br/> +Oft she sitteth, with hands on knee,<br/> +Idle with love for her family.<br/> +Go forth to her from the dark and the dust,<br/> +And weep beside her, if weep thou must;<br/> +If she may not hold thee to her breast,<br/> +Like a weary infant, that cries for rest<br/> +At least she will press thee to her knee,<br/> +And tell a low, sweet tale to thee,<br/> +Till the hue to thy cheeky and the light to thine eye,<br/> +Strength to thy limbs, and courage high<br/> +To thy fainting heart, return amain,<br/> +And away to work thou goest again.<br/> +From the narrow desert, O man of pride,<br/> +Come into the house, so high and wide. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly knowing what I did, I opened the door. Why had I not done so before? I +do not know. +</p> + +<p> +At first I could see no one; but when I had forced myself past the tree which +grew across the entrance, I saw, seated on the ground, and leaning against the +tree, with her back to my prison, a beautiful woman. Her countenance seemed +known to me, and yet unknown. She looked at me and smiled, when I made my +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! were you the prisoner there? I am very glad I have wiled you +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know me then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not know me? But you hurt me, and that, I suppose, makes it easy +for a man to forget. You broke my globe. Yet I thank you. Perhaps I owe you +many thanks for breaking it. I took the pieces, all black, and wet with crying +over them, to the Fairy Queen. There was no music and no light in them now. But +she took them from me, and laid them aside; and made me go to sleep in a great +hall of white, with black pillars, and many red curtains. When I woke in the +morning, I went to her, hoping to have my globe again, whole and sound; but she +sent me away without it, and I have not seen it since. Nor do I care for it +now. I have something so much better. I do not need the globe to play to me; +for I can sing. I could not sing at all before. Now I go about everywhere +through Fairy Land, singing till my heart is like to break, just like my globe, +for very joy at my own songs. And wherever I go, my songs do good, and deliver +people. And now I have delivered you, and I am so happy.” +</p> + +<p> +She ceased, and the tears came into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +All this time, I had been gazing at her; and now fully recognised the face of +the child, glorified in the countenance of the woman. +</p> + +<p> +I was ashamed and humbled before her; but a great weight was lifted from my +thoughts. I knelt before her, and thanked her, and begged her to forgive me. +</p> + +<p> +“Rise, rise,” she said; “I have nothing to forgive; I thank +you. But now I must be gone, for I do not know how many may be waiting for me, +here and there, through the dark forests; and they cannot come out till I +come.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose, and with a smile and a farewell, turned and left me. I dared not ask +her to stay; in fact, I could hardly speak to her. Between her and me, there +was a great gulf. She was uplifted, by sorrow and well-doing, into a region I +could hardly hope ever to enter. I watched her departure, as one watches a +sunset. She went like a radiance through the dark wood, which was henceforth +bright to me, from simply knowing that such a creature was in it. +</p> + +<p> +She was bearing the sun to the unsunned spots. The light and the music of her +broken globe were now in her heart and her brain. As she went, she sang; and I +caught these few words of her song; and the tones seemed to linger and wind +about the trees after she had disappeared: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Thou goest thine, and I go mine—<br/> + Many ways we wend;<br/> +Many days, and many ways,<br/> + Ending in one end.<br/> +<br/> +Many a wrong, and its curing song;<br/> + Many a road, and many an inn;<br/> +Room to roam, but only one home<br/> + For all the world to win. +</p> + +<p> +And so she vanished. With a sad heart, soothed by humility, and the knowledge +of her peace and gladness, I bethought me what now I should do. First, I must +leave the tower far behind me, lest, in some evil moment, I might be once more +caged within its horrible walls. But it was ill walking in my heavy armour; and +besides I had now no right to the golden spurs and the resplendent mail, fitly +dulled with long neglect. I might do for a squire; but I honoured knighthood +too highly, to call myself any longer one of the noble brotherhood. I stripped +off all my armour, piled it under the tree, just where the lady had been +seated, and took my unknown way, eastward through the woods. Of all my weapons, +I carried only a short axe in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +Then first I knew the delight of being lowly; of saying to myself, “I am +what I am, nothing more.” “I have failed,” I said, “I +have lost myself—would it had been my shadow.” I looked round: the +shadow was nowhere to be seen. Ere long, I learned that it was not myself, but +only my shadow, that I had lost. I learned that it is better, a thousand-fold, +for a proud man to fall and be humbled, than to hold up his head in his pride +and fancied innocence. I learned that he that will be a hero, will barely be a +man; that he that will be nothing but a doer of his work, is sure of his +manhood. In nothing was my ideal lowered, or dimmed, or grown less precious; I +only saw it too plainly, to set myself for a moment beside it. Indeed, my ideal +soon became my life; whereas, formerly, my life had consisted in a vain attempt +to behold, if not my ideal in myself, at least myself in my ideal. Now, +however, I took, at first, what perhaps was a mistaken pleasure, in despising +and degrading myself. Another self seemed to arise, like a white spirit from a +dead man, from the dumb and trampled self of the past. Doubtless, this self +must again die and be buried, and again, from its tomb, spring a winged child; +but of this my history as yet bears not the record. +</p> + +<p> +Self will come to life even in the slaying of self; but there is ever something +deeper and stronger than it, which will emerge at last from the unknown abysses +of the soul: will it be as a solemn gloom, burning with eyes? or a clear +morning after the rain? or a smiling child, that finds itself nowhere, and +everywhere? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“High erected thought, seated in a heart of courtesy.”<br/> + S<small>IR</small> P<small>HILIP</small> S<small>IDNEY</small>.<br/> +<br/> +“A sweet attractive kinde of grace,<br/> + A full assurance given by lookes,<br/> +Continuall comfort in a face,<br/> + The lineaments of Gospel bookes.”<br/> + M<small>ATTHEW</small> R<small>OYDON</small>, on Sir Philip Sidney. +</p> + +<p> +I had not gone far, for I had but just lost sight of the hated tower, when a +voice of another sort, sounding near or far, as the trees permitted or +intercepted its passage, reached me. It was a full, deep, manly voice, but +withal clear and melodious. Now it burst on the ear with a sudden swell, and +anon, dying away as suddenly, seemed to come to me across a great space. +Nevertheless, it drew nearer; till, at last, I could distinguish the words of +the song, and get transient glimpses of the singer, between the columns of the +trees. He came nearer, dawning upon me like a growing thought. He was a knight, +armed from head to heel, mounted upon a strange-looking beast, whose form I +could not understand. The words which I heard him sing were like these: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Heart be stout,<br/> + And eye be true;<br/> +Good blade out!<br/> + And ill shall rue.<br/> +<br/> +Courage, horse!<br/> + Thou lackst no skill;<br/> +Well thy force<br/> + Hath matched my will.<br/> +<br/> +For the foe<br/> + With fiery breath,<br/> +At a blow,<br/> + Is still in death.<br/> +<br/> +Gently, horse!<br/> + Tread fearlessly;<br/> +‘Tis his corse<br/> + That burdens thee.<br/> +<br/> +The sun’s eye<br/> + Is fierce at noon;<br/> +Thou and I<br/> + Will rest full soon.<br/> +<br/> +And new strength<br/> + New work will meet;<br/> +Till, at length,<br/> + Long rest is sweet. +</p> + +<p> +And now horse and rider had arrived near enough for me to see, fastened by the +long neck to the hinder part of the saddle, and trailing its hideous length on +the ground behind, the body of a great dragon. It was no wonder that, with such +a drag at his heels, the horse could make but slow progress, notwithstanding +his evident dismay. The horrid, serpent-like head, with its black tongue, +forked with red, hanging out of its jaws, dangled against the horse’s +side. Its neck was covered with long blue hair, its sides with scales of green +and gold. Its back was of corrugated skin, of a purple hue. Its belly was +similar in nature, but its colour was leaden, dashed with blotches of livid +blue. Its skinny, bat-like wings and its tail were of a dull gray. It was +strange to see how so many gorgeous colours, so many curving lines, and such +beautiful things as wings and hair and scales, combined to form the horrible +creature, intense in ugliness. +</p> + +<p> +The knight was passing me with a salutation; but, as I walked towards him, he +reined up, and I stood by his stirrup. When I came near him, I saw to my +surprise and pleasure likewise, although a sudden pain, like a birth of fire, +sprang up in my heart, that it was the knight of the soiled armour, whom I knew +before, and whom I had seen in the vision, with the lady of the marble. But I +could have thrown my arms around him, because she loved him. This discovery +only strengthened the resolution I had formed, before I recognised him, of +offering myself to the knight, to wait upon him as a squire, for he seemed to +be unattended. I made my request in as few words as possible. He hesitated for +a moment, and looked at me thoughtfully. I saw that he suspected who I was, but +that he continued uncertain of his suspicion. No doubt he was soon convinced of +its truth; but all the time I was with him, not a word crossed his lips with +reference to what he evidently concluded I wished to leave unnoticed, if not to +keep concealed. +</p> + +<p> +“Squire and knight should be friends,” said he: “can you take +me by the hand?” And he held out the great gauntleted right hand. I +grasped it willingly and strongly. Not a word more was said. The knight gave +the sign to his horse, which again began his slow march, and I walked beside +and a little behind. +</p> + +<p> +We had not gone very far before we arrived at a little cottage; from which, as +we drew near, a woman rushed out with the cry: +</p> + +<p> +“My child! my child! have you found my child?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have found her,” replied the knight, “but she is sorely +hurt. I was forced to leave her with the hermit, as I returned. You will find +her there, and I think she will get better. You see I have brought you a +present. This wretch will not hurt you again.” And he undid the +creature’s neck, and flung the frightful burden down by the cottage door. +</p> + +<p> +The woman was now almost out of sight in the wood; but the husband stood at the +door, with speechless thanks in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“You must bury the monster,” said the knight. “If I had +arrived a moment later, I should have been too late. But now you need not fear, +for such a creature as this very rarely appears, in the same part, twice during +a lifetime.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you not dismount and rest you, Sir Knight?” said the peasant, +who had, by this time, recovered himself a little. +</p> + +<p> +“That I will, thankfully,” said he; and, dismounting, he gave the +reins to me, and told me to unbridle the horse, and lead him into the shade. +“You need not tie him up,” he added; “he will not run +away.” +</p> + +<p> +When I returned, after obeying his orders, and entered the cottage, I saw the +knight seated, without his helmet, and talking most familiarly with the simple +host. I stood at the open door for a moment, and, gazing at him, inwardly +justified the white lady in preferring him to me. A nobler countenance I never +saw. Loving-kindness beamed from every line of his face. It seemed as if he +would repay himself for the late arduous combat, by indulging in all the +gentleness of a womanly heart. But when the talk ceased for a moment, he seemed +to fall into a reverie. Then the exquisite curves of the upper lip vanished. +The lip was lengthened and compressed at the same moment. You could have told +that, within the lips, the teeth were firmly closed. The whole face grew stern +and determined, all but fierce; only the eyes burned on like a holy sacrifice, +uplift on a granite rock. +</p> + +<p> +The woman entered, with her mangled child in her arms. She was pale as her +little burden. She gazed, with a wild love and despairing tenderness, on the +still, all but dead face, white and clear from loss of blood and terror. +</p> + +<p> +The knight rose. The light that had been confined to his eyes, now shone from +his whole countenance. He took the little thing in his arms, and, with the +mother’s help, undressed her, and looked to her wounds. The tears flowed +down his face as he did so. With tender hands he bound them up, kissed the pale +cheek, and gave her back to her mother. When he went home, all his tale would +be of the grief and joy of the parents; while to me, who had looked on, the +gracious countenance of the armed man, beaming from the panoply of steel, over +the seemingly dead child, while the powerful hands turned it and shifted it, +and bound it, if possible even more gently than the mother’s, formed the +centre of the story. +</p> + +<p> +After we had partaken of the best they could give us, the knight took his +leave, with a few parting instructions to the mother as to how she should treat +the child. +</p> + +<p> +I brought the knight his steed, held the stirrup while he mounted, and then +followed him through the wood. The horse, delighted to be free of his hideous +load, bounded beneath the weight of man and armour, and could hardly be +restrained from galloping on. But the knight made him time his powers to mine, +and so we went on for an hour or two. Then the knight dismounted, and compelled +me to get into the saddle, saying: “Knight and squire must share the +labour.” +</p> + +<p> +Holding by the stirrup, he walked along by my side, heavily clad as he was, +with apparent ease. As we went, he led a conversation, in which I took what +humble part my sense of my condition would permit me. +</p> + +<p> +“Somehow or other,” said he, “notwithstanding the beauty of +this country of Faerie, in which we are, there is much that is wrong in it. If +there are great splendours, there are corresponding horrors; heights and +depths; beautiful women and awful fiends; noble men and weaklings. All a man +has to do, is to better what he can. And if he will settle it with himself, +that even renown and success are in themselves of no great value, and be +content to be defeated, if so be that the fault is not his; and so go to his +work with a cool brain and a strong will, he will get it done; and fare none +the worse in the end, that he was not burdened with provision and +precaution.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he will not always come off well,” I ventured to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps not,” rejoined the knight, “in the individual act; +but the result of his lifetime will content him.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it will fare with you, doubtless,” thought I; “but for +me—-” +</p> + +<p> +Venturing to resume the conversation after a pause, I said, hesitatingly: +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask for what the little beggar-girl wanted your aid, when she came +to your castle to find you?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me for a moment in silence, and then said— +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot help wondering how you know of that; but there is something +about you quite strange enough to entitle you to the privilege of the country; +namely, to go unquestioned. I, however, being only a man, such as you see me, +am ready to tell you anything you like to ask me, as far as I can. The little +beggar-girl came into the hall where I was sitting, and told me a very curious +story, which I can only recollect very vaguely, it was so peculiar. What I can +recall is, that she was sent to gather wings. As soon as she had gathered a +pair of wings for herself, she was to fly away, she said, to the country she +came from; but where that was, she could give no information. +</p> + +<p> +“She said she had to beg her wings from the butterflies and moths; and +wherever she begged, no one refused her. But she needed a great many of the +wings of butterflies and moths to make a pair for her; and so she had to wander +about day after day, looking for butterflies, and night after night, looking +for moths; and then she begged for their wings. But the day before, she had +come into a part of the forest, she said, where there were multitudes of +splendid butterflies flitting about, with wings which were just fit to make the +eyes in the shoulders of hers; and she knew she could have as many of them as +she liked for the asking; but as soon as she began to beg, there came a great +creature right up to her, and threw her down, and walked over her. When she got +up, she saw the wood was full of these beings stalking about, and seeming to +have nothing to do with each other. As soon as ever she began to beg, one of +them walked over her; till at last in dismay, and in growing horror of the +senseless creatures, she had run away to look for somebody to help her. I asked +her what they were like. She said, like great men, made of wood, without +knee-or elbow-joints, and without any noses or mouths or eyes in their faces. I +laughed at the little maiden, thinking she was making child’s game of me; +but, although she burst out laughing too, she persisted in asserting the truth +of her story.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Only come, knight, come and see; I will lead you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“So I armed myself, to be ready for anything that might happen, and +followed the child; for, though I could make nothing of her story, I could see +she was a little human being in need of some help or other. As she walked +before me, I looked attentively at her. Whether or not it was from being so +often knocked down and walked over, I could not tell, but her clothes were very +much torn, and in several places her white skin was peeping through. I thought +she was hump-backed; but on looking more closely, I saw, through the tatters of +her frock—do not laugh at me—a bunch on each shoulder, of the most +gorgeous colours. Looking yet more closely, I saw that they were of the shape +of folded wings, and were made of all kinds of butterfly-wings and moth-wings, +crowded together like the feathers on the individual butterfly pinion; but, +like them, most beautifully arranged, and producing a perfect harmony of colour +and shade. I could now more easily believe the rest of her story; especially as +I saw, every now and then, a certain heaving motion in the wings, as if they +longed to be uplifted and outspread. But beneath her scanty garments complete +wings could not be concealed, and indeed, from her own story, they were yet +unfinished. +</p> + +<p> +“After walking for two or three hours (how the little girl found her way, +I could not imagine), we came to a part of the forest, the very air of which +was quivering with the motions of multitudes of resplendent butterflies; as +gorgeous in colour, as if the eyes of peacocks’ feathers had taken to +flight, but of infinite variety of hue and form, only that the appearance of +some kind of eye on each wing predominated. ‘There they are, there they +are!’ cried the child, in a tone of victory mingled with terror. Except +for this tone, I should have thought she referred to the butterflies, for I +could see nothing else. But at that moment an enormous butterfly, whose wings +had great eyes of blue surrounded by confused cloudy heaps of more dingy +colouring, just like a break in the clouds on a stormy day towards evening, +settled near us. The child instantly began murmuring: ‘Butterfly, +butterfly, give me your wings’; when, the moment after, she fell to the +ground, and began crying as if hurt. I drew my sword and heaved a great blow in +the direction in which the child had fallen. It struck something, and instantly +the most grotesque imitation of a man became visible. You see this Fairy Land +is full of oddities and all sorts of incredibly ridiculous things, which a man +is compelled to meet and treat as real existences, although all the time he +feels foolish for doing so. This being, if being it could be called, was like a +block of wood roughly hewn into the mere outlines of a man; and hardly so, for +it had but head, body, legs, and arms—the head without a face, and the +limbs utterly formless. I had hewn off one of its legs, but the two portions +moved on as best they could, quite independent of each other; so that I had +done no good. I ran after it, and clove it in twain from the head downwards; +but it could not be convinced that its vocation was not to walk over people; +for, as soon as the little girl began her begging again, all three parts came +bustling up; and if I had not interposed my weight between her and them, she +would have been trampled again under them. I saw that something else must be +done. If the wood was full of the creatures, it would be an endless work to +chop them so small that they could do no injury; and then, besides, the parts +would be so numerous, that the butterflies would be in danger from the drift of +flying chips. I served this one so, however; and then told the girl to beg +again, and point out the direction in which one was coming. I was glad to find, +however, that I could now see him myself, and wondered how they could have been +invisible before. I would not allow him to walk over the child; but while I +kept him off, and she began begging again, another appeared; and it was all I +could do, from the weight of my armour, to protect her from the stupid, +persevering efforts of the two. But suddenly the right plan occurred to me. I +tripped one of them up, and, taking him by the legs, set him up on his head, +with his heels against a tree. I was delighted to find he could not move. +Meantime the poor child was walked over by the other, but it was for the last +time. Whenever one appeared, I followed the same plan—tripped him up and +set him on his head; and so the little beggar was able to gather her wings +without any trouble, which occupation she continued for several hours in my +company.” +</p> + +<p> +“What became of her?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I took her home with me to my castle, and she told me all her story; but +it seemed to me, all the time, as if I were hearing a child talk in its sleep. +I could not arrange her story in my mind at all, although it seemed to leave +hers in some certain order of its own. My wife—-” +</p> + +<p> +Here the knight checked himself, and said no more. Neither did I urge the +conversation farther. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we journeyed for several days, resting at night in such shelter as we +could get; and when no better was to be had, lying in the forest under some +tree, on a couch of old leaves. +</p> + +<p> +I loved the knight more and more. I believe never squire served his master with +more care and joyfulness than I. I tended his horse; I cleaned his armour; my +skill in the craft enabled me to repair it when necessary; I watched his needs; +and was well repaid for all by the love itself which I bore him. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” I said to myself, “is a true man. I will serve him, +and give him all worship, seeing in him the imbodiment of what I would fain +become. If I cannot be noble myself, I will yet be servant to his +nobleness.” He, in return, soon showed me such signs of friendship and +respect, as made my heart glad; and I felt that, after all, mine would be no +lost life, if I might wait on him to the world’s end, although no smile +but his should greet me, and no one but him should say, “Well done! he +was a good servant!” at last. But I burned to do something more for him +than the ordinary routine of a squire’s duty permitted. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, we began to observe an appearance of roads in the wood. Branches +had been cut down, and openings made, where footsteps had worn no path below. +These indications increased as we passed on, till, at length, we came into a +long, narrow avenue, formed by felling the trees in its line, as the remaining +roots evidenced. At some little distance, on both hands, we observed signs of +similar avenues, which appeared to converge with ours, towards one spot. Along +these we indistinctly saw several forms moving, which seemed, with ourselves, +to approach the common centre. Our path brought us, at last, up to a wall of +yew-trees, growing close together, and intertwining their branches so, that +nothing could be seen beyond it. An opening was cut in it like a door, and all +the wall was trimmed smooth and perpendicular. The knight dismounted, and +waited till I had provided for his horse’s comfort; upon which we entered +the place together. +</p> + +<p> +It was a great space, bare of trees, and enclosed by four walls of yew, similar +to that through which we had entered. These trees grew to a very great height, +and did not divide from each other till close to the top, where their summits +formed a row of conical battlements all around the walls. The space contained +was a parallelogram of great length. Along each of the two longer sides of the +interior, were ranged three ranks of men, in white robes, standing silent and +solemn, each with a sword by his side, although the rest of his costume and +bearing was more priestly than soldierly. For some distance inwards, the space +between these opposite rows was filled with a company of men and women and +children, in holiday attire. The looks of all were directed inwards, towards +the further end. Far beyond the crowd, in a long avenue, seeming to narrow in +the distance, went the long rows of the white-robed men. On what the attention +of the multitude was fixed, we could not tell, for the sun had set before we +arrived, and it was growing dark within. It grew darker and darker. The +multitude waited in silence. The stars began to shine down into the enclosure, +and they grew brighter and larger every moment. A wind arose, and swayed the +pinnacles of the tree-tops; and made a strange sound, half like music, half +like moaning, through the close branches and leaves of the tree-walls. A young +girl who stood beside me, clothed in the same dress as the priests, bowed her +head, and grew pale with awe. +</p> + +<p> +The knight whispered to me, “How solemn it is! Surely they wait to hear +the voice of a prophet. There is something good near!” +</p> + +<p> +But I, though somewhat shaken by the feeling expressed by my master, yet had an +unaccountable conviction that here was something bad. So I resolved to be +keenly on the watch for what should follow. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a great star, like a sun, appeared high in the air over the temple, +illuminating it throughout; and a great song arose from the men in white, which +went rolling round and round the building, now receding to the end, and now +approaching, down the other side, the place where we stood. For some of the +singers were regularly ceasing, and the next to them as regularly taking up the +song, so that it crept onwards with gradations produced by changes which could +not themselves be detected, for only a few of those who were singing ceased at +the same moment. The song paused; and I saw a company of six of the white-robed +men walk up the centre of the human avenue, surrounding a youth gorgeously +attired beneath his robe of white, and wearing a chaplet of flowers on his +head. I followed them closely, with my keenest observation; and, by +accompanying their slow progress with my eyes, I was able to perceive more +clearly what took place when they arrived at the other end. I knew that my +sight was so much more keen than that of most people, that I had good reason to +suppose I should see more than the rest could, at such a distance. At the +farther end a throne stood upon a platform, high above the heads of the +surrounding priests. To this platform I saw the company begin to ascend, +apparently by an inclined plane or gentle slope. The throne itself was elevated +again, on a kind of square pedestal, to the top of which led a flight of steps. +On the throne sat a majestic-looking figure, whose posture seemed to indicate a +mixture of pride and benignity, as he looked down on the multitude below. The +company ascended to the foot of the throne, where they all kneeled for some +minutes; then they rose and passed round to the side of the pedestal upon which +the throne stood. Here they crowded close behind the youth, putting him in the +foremost place, and one of them opened a door in the pedestal, for the youth to +enter. I was sure I saw him shrink back, and those crowding behind pushed him +in. Then, again, arose a burst of song from the multitude in white, which +lasted some time. When it ceased, a new company of seven commenced its march up +the centre. As they advanced, I looked up at my master: his noble countenance +was full of reverence and awe. Incapable of evil himself, he could scarcely +suspect it in another, much less in a multitude such as this, and surrounded +with such appearances of solemnity. I was certain it was the really grand +accompaniments that overcame him; that the stars overhead, the dark towering +tops of the yew-trees, and the wind that, like an unseen spirit, sighed through +their branches, bowed his spirit to the belief, that in all these ceremonies +lay some great mystical meaning which, his humility told him, his ignorance +prevented him from understanding. +</p> + +<p> +More convinced than before, that there was evil here, I could not endure that +my master should be deceived; that one like him, so pure and noble, should +respect what, if my suspicions were true, was worse than the ordinary +deceptions of priestcraft. I could not tell how far he might be led to +countenance, and otherwise support their doings, before he should find cause to +repent bitterly of his error. I watched the new procession yet more keenly, if +possible, than the former. This time, the central figure was a girl; and, at +the close, I observed, yet more indubitably, the shrinking back, and the +crowding push. What happened to the victims, I never learned; but I had learned +enough, and I could bear it no longer. I stooped, and whispered to the young +girl who stood by me, to lend me her white garment. I wanted it, that I might +not be entirely out of keeping with the solemnity, but might have at least this +help to passing unquestioned. She looked up, half-amused and half-bewildered, +as if doubting whether I was in earnest or not. But in her perplexity, she +permitted me to unfasten it, and slip it down from her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +I easily got possession of it; and, sinking down on my knees in the crowd, I +rose apparently in the habit of one of the worshippers. +</p> + +<p> +Giving my battle-axe to the girl, to hold in pledge for the return of her +stole, for I wished to test the matter unarmed, and, if it was a man that sat +upon the throne, to attack him with hands bare, as I supposed his must be, I +made my way through the crowd to the front, while the singing yet continued, +desirous of reaching the platform while it was unoccupied by any of the +priests. I was permitted to walk up the long avenue of white robes unmolested, +though I saw questioning looks in many of the faces as I passed. I presume my +coolness aided my passage; for I felt quite indifferent as to my own fate; not +feeling, after the late events of my history, that I was at all worth taking +care of; and enjoying, perhaps, something of an evil satisfaction, in the +revenge I was thus taking upon the self which had fooled me so long. When I +arrived on the platform, the song had just ceased, and I felt as if all were +looking towards me. But instead of kneeling at its foot, I walked right up the +stairs to the throne, laid hold of a great wooden image that seemed to sit upon +it, and tried to hurl it from its seat. In this I failed at first, for I found +it firmly fixed. But in dread lest, the first shock of amazement passing away, +the guards would rush upon me before I had effected my purpose, I strained with +all my might; and, with a noise as of the cracking, and breaking, and tearing +of rotten wood, something gave way, and I hurled the image down the steps. Its +displacement revealed a great hole in the throne, like the hollow of a decayed +tree, going down apparently a great way. But I had no time to examine it, for, +as I looked into it, up out of it rushed a great brute, like a wolf, but twice +the size, and tumbled me headlong with itself, down the steps of the throne. As +we fell, however, I caught it by the throat, and the moment we reached the +platform, a struggle commenced, in which I soon got uppermost, with my hand +upon its throat, and knee upon its heart. But now arose a wild cry of wrath and +revenge and rescue. A universal hiss of steel, as every sword was swept from +its scabbard, seemed to tear the very air in shreds. I heard the rush of +hundreds towards the platform on which I knelt. I only tightened my grasp of +the brute’s throat. His eyes were already starting from his head, and his +tongue was hanging out. My anxious hope was, that, even after they had killed +me, they would be unable to undo my gripe of his throat, before the monster was +past breathing. I therefore threw all my will, and force, and purpose, into the +grasping hand. I remember no blow. A faintness came over me, and my +consciousness departed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“We are ne’er like angels till our passions die.”<br/> + D<small>ECKAR</small>.<br/> +<br/> +“This wretched <i>Inn</i>, where we scarce stay to bait,<br/> + We call our <i>Dwelling-Place</i>:<br/> + We call one <i>Step a Race</i>:<br/> +But angels in their full enlightened state,<br/> +Angels, who <i>Live</i>, and know what ‘tis to <i>Be</i>,<br/> +Who all the nonsense of our language see,<br/> +Who speak <i>things</i>, and our <i>words</i>, their ill-drawn <i>pictures</i>, scorn,<br/> + When we, by a foolish figure, say,<br/> + <i>Behold an old man dead!</i> then they<br/> +Speak properly, and cry, <i>Behold a man-child born!</i>”<br/> + C<small>OWLEY</small>. +</p> + +<p> +I was dead, and right content. I lay in my coffin, with my hands folded in +peace. The knight, and the lady I loved, wept over me. +</p> + +<p> +Her tears fell on my face. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the knight, “I rushed amongst them like a madman. +I hewed them down like brushwood. Their swords battered on me like hail, but +hurt me not. I cut a lane through to my friend. He was dead. But he had +throttled the monster, and I had to cut the handful out of its throat, before I +could disengage and carry off his body. They dared not molest me as I brought +him back.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has died well,” said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +My spirit rejoiced. They left me to my repose. I felt as if a cool hand had +been laid upon my heart, and had stilled it. My soul was like a summer evening, +after a heavy fall of rain, when the drops are yet glistening on the trees in +the last rays of the down-going sun, and the wind of the twilight has begun to +blow. The hot fever of life had gone by, and I breathed the clear mountain-air +of the land of Death. I had never dreamed of such blessedness. It was not that +I had in any way ceased to be what I had been. The very fact that anything can +die, implies the existence of something that cannot die; which must either take +to itself another form, as when the seed that is sown dies, and arises again; +or, in conscious existence, may, perhaps, continue to lead a purely spiritual +life. If my passions were dead, the souls of the passions, those essential +mysteries of the spirit which had imbodied themselves in the passions, and had +given to them all their glory and wonderment, yet lived, yet glowed, with a +pure, undying fire. They rose above their vanishing earthly garments, and +disclosed themselves angels of light. But oh, how beautiful beyond the old +form! I lay thus for a time, and lived as it were an unradiating existence; my +soul a motionless lake, that received all things and gave nothing back; +satisfied in still contemplation, and spiritual consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long, they bore me to my grave. Never tired child lay down in his white +bed, and heard the sound of his playthings being laid aside for the night, with +a more luxurious satisfaction of repose than I knew, when I felt the coffin +settle on the firm earth, and heard the sound of the falling mould upon its +lid. It has not the same hollow rattle within the coffin, that it sends up to +the edge of the grave. They buried me in no graveyard. They loved me too much +for that, I thank them; but they laid me in the grounds of their own castle, +amid many trees; where, as it was spring-time, were growing primroses, and +blue-bells, and all the families of the woods +</p> + +<p> +Now that I lay in her bosom, the whole earth, and each of her many births, was +as a body to me, at my will. I seemed to feel the great heart of the mother +beating into mine, and feeding me with her own life, her own essential being +and nature. I heard the footsteps of my friends above, and they sent a thrill +through my heart. I knew that the helpers had gone, and that the knight and the +lady remained, and spoke low, gentle, tearful words of him who lay beneath the +yet wounded sod. I rose into a single large primrose that grew by the edge of +the grave, and from the window of its humble, trusting face, looked full in the +countenance of the lady. I felt that I could manifest myself in the primrose; +that it said a part of what I wanted to say; just as in the old time, I had +used to betake myself to a song for the same end. The flower caught her eye. +She stooped and plucked it, saying, “Oh, you beautiful creature!” +and, lightly kissing it, put it in her bosom. It was the first kiss she had +ever given me. But the flower soon began to wither, and I forsook it. +</p> + +<p> +It was evening. The sun was below the horizon; but his rosy beams yet +illuminated a feathery cloud, that floated high above the world. I arose, I +reached the cloud; and, throwing myself upon it, floated with it in sight of +the sinking sun. He sank, and the cloud grew gray; but the grayness touched not +my heart. It carried its rose-hue within; for now I could love without needing +to be loved again. The moon came gliding up with all the past in her wan face. +She changed my couch into a ghostly pallor, and threw all the earth below as to +the bottom of a pale sea of dreams. But she could not make me sad. I knew now, +that it is by loving, and not by being loved, that one can come nearest the +soul of another; yea, that, where two love, it is the loving of each other, and +not the being loved by each other, that originates and perfects and assures +their blessedness. I knew that love gives to him that loveth, power over any +soul beloved, even if that soul know him not, bringing him inwardly close to +that spirit; a power that cannot be but for good; for in proportion as +selfishness intrudes, the love ceases, and the power which springs therefrom +dies. Yet all love will, one day, meet with its return. All true love will, one +day, behold its own image in the eyes of the beloved, and be humbly glad. This +is possible in the realms of lofty Death. “Ah! my friends,” thought +I, “how I will tend you, and wait upon you, and haunt you with my +love.” +</p> + +<p> +My floating chariot bore me over a great city. Its faint dull sound steamed up +into the air—a sound—how composed? “How many hopeless +cries,” thought I, “and how many mad shouts go to make up the +tumult, here so faint where I float in eternal peace, knowing that they will +one day be stilled in the surrounding calm, and that despair dies into infinite +hope, and the seeming impossible there, is the law here! +</p> + +<p> +“But, O pale-faced women, and gloomy-browed men, and forgotten children, +how I will wait on you, and minister to you, and, putting my arms about you in +the dark, think hope into your hearts, when you fancy no one is near! Soon as +my senses have all come back, and have grown accustomed to this new blessed +life, I will be among you with the love that healeth.” +</p> + +<p> +With this, a pang and a terrible shudder went through me; a writhing as of +death convulsed me; and I became once again conscious of a more limited, even a +bodily and earthly life. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Our life is no dream; but it ought to become one, and perhaps +will.”<br/> + N<small>OVALIS</small>.<br/> +<br/> +“And on the ground, which is my modres gate,<br/> +I knocke with my staf; erlich and late,<br/> +And say to hire, Leve mother, let me in.”<br/> + C<small>HAUCER</small>, <i>The Pardoneres Tale</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Sinking from such a state of ideal bliss, into the world of shadows which again +closed around and infolded me, my first dread was, not unnaturally, that my own +shadow had found me again, and that my torture had commenced anew. It was a sad +revulsion of feeling. This, indeed, seemed to correspond to what we think death +is, before we die. Yet I felt within me a power of calm endurance to which I +had hitherto been a stranger. For, in truth, that I should be able if only to +think such things as I had been thinking, was an unspeakable delight. An hour +of such peace made the turmoil of a lifetime worth striving through. +</p> + +<p> +I found myself lying in the open air, in the early morning, before sunrise. +Over me rose the summer heaven, expectant of the sun. The clouds already saw +him, coming from afar; and soon every dewdrop would rejoice in his individual +presence within it. +</p> + +<p> +I lay motionless for a few minutes; and then slowly rose and looked about me. I +was on the summit of a little hill; a valley lay beneath, and a range of +mountains closed up the view upon that side. But, to my horror, across the +valley, and up the height of the opposing mountains, stretched, from my very +feet, a hugely expanding shade. There it lay, long and large, dark and mighty. +I turned away with a sick despair; when lo! I beheld the sun just lifting his +head above the eastern hill, and the shadow that fell from me, lay only where +his beams fell not. I danced for joy. It was only the natural shadow, that goes +with every man who walks in the sun. As he arose, higher and higher, the +shadow-head sank down the side of the opposite hill, and crept in across the +valley towards my feet. +</p> + +<p> +Now that I was so joyously delivered from this fear, I saw and recognised the +country around me. In the valley below, lay my own castle, and the haunts of my +childhood were all about me hastened home. My sisters received me with +unspeakable joy; but I suppose they observed some change in me, for a kind of +respect, with a slight touch of awe in it, mingled with their joy, and made me +ashamed. They had been in great distress about me. On the morning of my +disappearance, they had found the floor of my room flooded; and, all that day, +a wondrous and nearly impervious mist had hung about the castle and grounds. I +had been gone, they told me, twenty-one days. To me it seemed twenty-one years. +Nor could I yet feel quite secure in my new experiences. When, at night, I lay +down once more in my own bed, I did not feel at all sure that when I awoke, I +should not find myself in some mysterious region of Fairy Land. My dreams were +incessant and perturbed; but when I did awake, I saw clearly that I was in my +own home. +</p> + +<p> +My mind soon grew calm; and I began the duties of my new position, somewhat +instructed, I hoped, by the adventures that had befallen me in Fairy Land. +Could I translate the experience of my travels there, into common life? This +was the question. Or must I live it all over again, and learn it all over +again, in the other forms that belong to the world of men, whose experience yet +runs parallel to that of Fairy Land? These questions I cannot answer yet. But I +fear. +</p> + +<p> +Even yet, I find myself looking round sometimes with anxiety, to see whether my +shadow falls right away from the sun or no. I have never yet discovered any +inclination to either side. And if I am not unfrequently sad, I yet cast no +more of a shade on the earth, than most men who have lived in it as long as I. +I have a strange feeling sometimes, that I am a ghost, sent into the world to +minister to my fellow men, or, rather, to repair the wrongs I have already +done. +</p> + +<p> +May the world be brighter for me, at least in those portions of it, where my +darkness falls not. +</p> + +<p> +Thus I, who set out to find my Ideal, came back rejoicing that I had lost my +Shadow. +</p> + +<p> +When the thought of the blessedness I experienced, after my death in Fairy +Land, is too high for me to lay hold upon it and hope in it, I often think of +the wise woman in the cottage, and of her solemn assurance that she knew +something too good to be told. When I am oppressed by any sorrow or real +perplexity, I often feel as if I had only left her cottage for a time, and +would soon return out of the vision, into it again. Sometimes, on such +occasions, I find myself, unconsciously almost, looking about for the mystic +mark of red, with the vague hope of entering her door, and being comforted by +her wise tenderness. I then console myself by saying: “I have come +through the door of Dismay; and the way back from the world into which that has +led me, is through my tomb. Upon that the red sign lies, and I shall find it +one day, and be glad.” +</p> + +<p> +I will end my story with the relation of an incident which befell me a few days +ago. I had been with my reapers, and, when they ceased their work at noon, I +had lain down under the shadow of a great, ancient beech-tree, that stood on +the edge of the field. As I lay, with my eyes closed, I began to listen to the +sound of the leaves overhead. At first, they made sweet inarticulate music +alone; but, by-and-by, the sound seemed to begin to take shape, and to be +gradually moulding itself into words; till, at last, I seemed able to +distinguish these, half-dissolved in a little ocean of circumfluent tones: +“A great good is coming—is coming—is coming to thee, +Anodos;” and so over and over again. I fancied that the sound reminded me +of the voice of the ancient woman, in the cottage that was four-square. I +opened my eyes, and, for a moment, almost believed that I saw her face, with +its many wrinkles and its young eyes, looking at me from between two hoary +branches of the beech overhead. But when I looked more keenly, I saw only twigs +and leaves, and the infinite sky, in tiny spots, gazing through between. Yet I +know that good is coming to me—that good is always coming; though few +have at all times the simplicity and the courage to believe it. What we call +evil, is the only and best shape, which, for the person and his condition at +the time, could be assumed by the best good. And so, <i>Farewell</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHANTASTES ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 325-h.htm or 325-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/325/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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